and call me what you like.’ ‘Right,’ he says, ‘I will’ and we went straight off. Now, I leave it to you, sir, if that ad., as we term 'em, with ’Arrington on it warn’t as plain as ever you see anythink—blue letters on yeller glass, and as I says at the time, and you borne me out, reg’lar in the glass, because, if you remember, you recollect of me swabbing it with my duster.” “To be sure I do, quite clearly— well?” “You may say well, I don't think. Mr. Timms he gets in that car with a light—no, he telled William to 'old the light outside. ‘Now,’ he says, ‘where’s your precious ad. what we've ’eard so much about?’ ‘’Ere it is’, I says, ‘Mr. Timms,‘ and I laid my ‘and on it.” The conductor paused.
“Well,” said Mr. Dunning, “it was gone, I suppose. Broken?”
“Broke—not it. There warn’t, if you'll believe me, no more trace of them letters— blue letters they was—on that piece o' glass, than—well, it’s no good me talkin’. I never see such a thing. I leave it to William here if—but there, as I says, where's the benefit in me going on about it?”
