90 STRAY -AW AYS 



My cousin's moving adventures must now be briefly 

 recited. Her fat porter unfolded slowly — she said 

 he did everything slowly — into a dotard of the deepest 

 dye. After incredible dallyings in the registration 

 department, he reappeared, to inform her that the 

 Danish train had gone, and that her sole chance was 

 to drive to the other station — ^the Klosterthor — and 

 intercept it there. This she did, much maddened 

 by the refusal of the cabman to start till he had re- 

 ceived his fare. But the Danish train had long since 

 left the Klosterthor. It was suggested to her that 

 the other lady might have got out at the original 

 station — ^the Dammthor — on finding the train about 

 to start, and might even now be waiting there. The 

 suggestion and the name of the station alike com- 

 mended themselves to my cousin in her then frame of 

 mind, and she caused herself to be driven back to 

 the station with the name that seemed to her so 

 appropriate. 



The Dammthor was a desert. Not even the dotard 

 remained, to be spoken to after his deservings; and 

 my cousin ran to and fro like a lost soul in the Inferno, 

 and found nothing but locked doors and emptiness. 

 An official was at last vouchsafed from darkness, who 

 took her to the telegraph -office, and there, as I have 

 told, the connection was re-established. It was at 

 about this stage of the proceedings that she was 

 informed by the telegraph -office that unless she 

 hurried back to the Klosterthor she would miss the 

 last train for Altona, and when for the third time she 

 adventured forth, she became gradually aware that 

 all the wagens had retired for the night. At this 

 culminating blow my second cousin abandoned herself 

 for a brief period to despair, while she drifted, rudder- 

 less, about the great empty platz in search of a guide. 

 But presently meeting a stout Frdulein, and inquiring 



