Page:Walpole - Fortitude.djvu/53

 and if he were ever going to get there at all he must not mind this parting.

"What the devil are you crying about?” came suddenly from the other side of the carriage. He looked up, and saw that there was an old gentleman sitting in the opposite corner. He had a red fat face and beautiful white hair.

“I'm not crying,” said Peter, rather defiantly.

“Oh! yes, you are—or you were. Supposing you share my lunch and see whether that will make things any better.”

“Thank you very much, but I have some sandwiches,” said Peter, feeling for the paper packet and finding it.

“Well, supposing you come over here and eat yours with me. And if you could manage to help me with any of mine I should be greatly indebted. I can't bear having my meals alone, you know.”

How can one possibly resist it when the Olympians come down so amiably from their heights and offer us their hospitality? Moreover the Old Gentleman had, from his bag, produced the most wonderfully shaped parcels. There was certainly a meal, and Aunt Jessie's sandwiches would assuredly be thick and probably no mustard!

So Peter slipped across and sat next to the Old Gentleman, and even shared a rug. He ultimately shared a great many other things, like chicken and tongue, apples and pears and plum cake.

“Of course,” said the Old Gentleman, “you are going to school and probably for the first time—and therefore your legs are as weak as pins, you have a cold pain in the middle of your chest, and you have an intense desire to see your mother again.”

Peter admitted that this was true, although it wasn't his mother whom he wished to see so much as a friend of his called Stephen, and one or two places like the Grey Hill and The Bending Mule. All this interested the Old Gentleman very much.

“You, too, were at school? “Peter inquired politely.

“I was,” said the Old Gentleman.

"And was it like David Copperfield?” said Peter.

“Parts of it—the nice parts. School was the best, the very best time of my life, my boy, and so you'll find it.”