So we went to the high-level platform, and saw the engine-driver, and asked him if he was going to Kingston.

He said he couldn't say for certain of course, but that he rather thought he was.

Anyhow, if he wasn't the 11.5 for Kingston, he said he was pretty confident he was the 9.32 for Virginia Water, or the 10 a.m.express for the Isle of Wight, or somewhere in that direction, and we should all know when we got there.

We slipped half-a-crown into his hand, and begged him to be the 11.5 for Kingston.
"Nobody will ever know, on this line," we said, "what you are, or where you're going.

You know the way, you slip off quietly and go to Kingston." "Well, I don't know, gents," replied the noble fellow, "but I suppose _some_ train's got to go to Kingston; and I'll do it.