Free Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome Page A

then, had not one of the men had the presence of mind to put a handkerchief over his nose, and to light a bit of brown paper.
    I took my ticket, and marched proudly up the platform, with my cheeses, the people falling back respectfully on either side. The train was crowded, and I had to get into a carriage where there were already seven other people. One crusty old gentleman objected, but I got in, notwithstanding; and, putting my cheeses upon the rack, squeezed down with a pleasant smile, and said it was a warm day. A few moments passed, and then the old gentleman began to fidget.
    ‘Very close in here,’ he said.
    ‘Quite oppressive,’ said the man next to him.
    And then they both began sniffing, and, at the third sniff, they caught it right on the chest, and rose up without another word and went out. And then a stout lady got up, and said it was disgraceful that a respectable married woman should be harried about in this way, and gathered up a bag and eight parcels and went. The remaining four passengers sat on for a while, until a solemn-looking man in the corner who, from his dress and general appearance, seemed to belong to the undertaker class, said it put him in mind of a dead baby; and the other three passengers tried to get out of the door at the same time, and hurt themselves.
    I smiled at the black gentleman, and said I thought we were going to have the carriage to ourselves; and he laughed pleasantly and said that some people made such a fuss over a little thing. But even he grew strangely depressed after we had started, and so, when we reached Crewe, I asked him to come and have a drink. He accepted, and we forced our way into the buffet, where we yelled, and stamped, and waved our umbrellas for a quarter of an hour; and then a young lady came and asked us if we wanted anything.
    ‘What’s yours?’ I said, turning to my friend.
    ‘I’ll have half-a-crown’s worth 1 of brandy, neat, if you please, miss,’ he responded.
    And he went off quietly after he had drunk it and got into another carriage, which I thought mean.
    From Crewe I had the compartment to myself, though the train was crowded. As we drew up at the different stations, the people, seeing my empty carriage, would rush for it. ‘Here y’ are, Maria; come along, plenty of room.’ ‘All right, Tom; we’ll get in here,’ they would shout. And they would run along, carrying heavy bags, and fight round the door to get in first. And one would open the door and mount the steps and stagger back into the arms of the man behind him; and they would all come and have a sniff, and then drop off and squeeze into other carriages, or pay the difference and go first.
    From Euston I took the cheeses down to my friend’s house. When his wife came into the room, she smelt round for an instant. Then she said:
    ‘What is it? Tell me the worst.’
    I said:
    ‘It’s cheeses. Tom bought them in Liverpool, and asked me to bring them up with me.’
    And I added that I hoped she understood that it had nothing to do with me; and she said that she was sure of that, but that she would speak to Tom about it when he came back.
    My friend was detained in Liverpool longer than he expected; and three days later, as he hadn’t returned home, his wife called on me. She said:
    ‘What did Tom say about those cheeses?’
    I replied that he had directed they were to be kept in a moist place, and that nobody was to touch them.
    She said:
    ‘Nobody’s likely to touch them. Had he smelt them?’
    I thought he had, and added that he seemed greatly attached to them.
    ‘You think he would be upset,’ she queried, ‘if I gave a man a sovereign 2 to take them away and bury them?’
    I answered that I thought he would never smile again.
    An idea struck her. She said:
    ‘Do you mind keeping them for him? Let me send them round to you.’
    ‘Madam,’ I replied, ‘for myself I like the smell of cheese, and the journey the other day with them from Liverpool I shall ever look