Explore "Memoirs of a Midget" by Walter de la Mare on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Out of a cab from a livery stable Mrs. Bowater and I alighted at our London terminus next morning, to find positively awaiting us beside the wooden platform a first-class railway carriage -- a palatial apartment. Swept and garnished, padded and varnished -- a miracle of wealth! At this very moment I seem to be looking up in awe at the orange-rimmed (I think it was orange) label stuck on the glass whose inscription I afterwards spelled out backwards from within: "Mrs. Bywater and Party. " As soon as we and our luggage were safely settled, an extremely polite and fatherly guard locked the door on us. At this Mrs. Bowater was a little troubled by the thought of how we should fare in the event of an accident. But he reassured her.
"Never fear, ma'am: accidents are strictly forbidden on this line. Besides which," he added, with a solemn, turtle-like stare, "if I turn the key on the young lady, none of them young a-ogling Don Jooans can force their way in. Strict orders, ma'am."