Garnet's tram was late, and by the time she reached Abbey Close the clock pointed to the half-hour.
"I'm frightfully sorry! You must think me a Juggins, but it wasn't my fault!" she apologized.

"We shall have to sprint, but we'll just do it." The girls set off at a tremendous pace along the Close and down the Abbey avenue, but it was difficult to keep the same speed through the town, where the streets were thronged with country people who had come in for the Saturday market.

They got along as best they could, walking first on the pavement and then on the road, dodging round stout females bearing baskets, avoiding hooting motors, and finally making a dash down a back street that led to the railway bridge.

They clattered down the steps to the booking office, secured their tickets and rushed on to the platform.

The hands of the big clock were at 12.45 exactly, the guard was about to wave his green flag.