92 THE TROUT ARE RISING 
his top-coat inside pocket. Little holes he had 
made at the top of it. These proved not little 
enough. Suddenly, a fellow passenger, pointing to 
the C.C.’s shoulder, remarked, “‘ Hullo! What's 
that ?”? A meal worm had crept out of the tin, 
worked its passage vid the inside of his top coat, 
and was now determinedly proceeding towards his 
collar. The C.C. hurriedly opened his coat. A 
hundred other meal worms, emulating the pioneer’s 
example, were a-roaming ; the inside of the coat 
was a living mosaic of the creeping creatures. 
However, the trouble was soon over, the passengers 
in the meantime having shown their sympathy 
with the C.C. by uncontrolled laughter, in which 
he joined. 
Looking out of the carriage window outside 
Birmingham, the plumber saw black belchings 
of smoke from chimney shafts and observed : 
“Gorgeous colouring there,” whilst the C.C. 
solemnly inquired: “Is this Bermondsey?” 
After leaving Kidderminster— Kiddy ” they call 
it for short—our attention was turned to the 
golden glory outside, trees yellowing, hedgerows 
mellowing, “all owning the hand -of autumn.” 
For the first time in this part of England, these 
good men enjoyed it with the hearts of little 
children. From them came no blasé utterances, 
such as the fashionable “Not bad” or the 
superior “It’s much finer in the... .” And 
when Wyre Forest was reached it seemed as if 
the trees which are missing from the waste, 
barren spaces of the earth had been compressed 
