The map was most inconveniently small.

Two folks could not consult it at the same time without coming into really uncomfortable proximity.
"There you are," said Robbie, reaching over, pipe in hand, to where the girl was intent on some minute point.
Suddenly there was a cloud of smoke over the map.

It also enveloped the students of geography.

Then, somehow, there was a sly smack of lips.
"And there _you_ are," said the girl, with a roguish laugh, as she brought Robbie a great whang over the ear and shot away.
Jim, the driver, came into the kitchen at that moment on his way to bed, and unravelled the mystery of the map by showing that it was possible for Robbie's friends to go off the Carlisle road towards Gaskarth and Wythburn at the village of Askham.
Robbie was satisfied with this explanation, and did his best under the circumstances to rest content until nine o'clock with the harbor into which he had drifted.

He succeeded more completely, perhaps, in this endeavor than might be expected, when the peril of his friends and his allegiance to Liza Branthwaite is taken into account.
But when nine o'clock had come and gone, and still the coach stood in the yard of the inn, Robbie's sense of duty overcame his appetite for what he would have called a "spoag." It was usual for the Carlisle coach to await the coach from Lancaster, and it was because the latter had not yet arrived at Kendal that the former was unable to depart from it.