Smythe high-strung and delicate, in spite of his stockkeeper's rig-out was taking little interest in anything except the shillings he collected. At last, with a heart-drawn sigh, he beckoned to his brother. "You must meet me with the buggy, Bert, when this is over. I have a splitting headache. We can do without you now." Alas! what doth a station manager with splitting headaches?