"You carried news heavy enough to break the thickest ice ever frozen. I
have a mind to throw you over the top of that tree instead of giving you
this half-crown."

"You let me alone," whimpered the boy, retreating another pace.

"Get back to Lyvern as fast as you can run or slide, and tell Mr. Marsh
to send me the fastest trap he has, to drive me to the railway station.
Here is your half-crown. Off with you; and if I do not find the trap
ready when I want it, woe betide you."

The boy came for the money mistrustfully, and ran off with it as fast
as he could. Smilash went into the chalet and never reappeared. Instead,
Trefusis, a gentleman in an ulster, carrying a rug, came out, locked the
door, and hurried along the road to Lyvern, where he was picked up by
the trap, and carried swiftly to the railway station, just in time to
catch the London train.

"Evening paper, sir?" said a voice at the window, as he settled himself
in the corner of a first-class carriage.

"No, thank you."

"Footwarmer, sir?" said a porter, appearing in the news-vender's place.

"Ah, that's a good idea. Yes, let me have a footwarmer."

The footwarmer was brought, and Trefusis composed himself comfortably
for his journey. It seemed very short to him; he could hardly believe,
when the train arrived in London, that he had been nearly three hours on