"
His answers to their inquiries were not more clear than those the conductor
had elicited, and Mr. Sherwood, who sat a few seats behind, becoming
indignant at the rude jokes that were being made at the expense of the
unfortunate man, stepped forward to interfere.
Surely he had seen the man before. He gazed at the man's distressed face,
but could not place him.
"What's the trouble, my friend?" he asked, sitting down in the seat behind
and leaning over to speak to him.
"I'm shure I dinna ken, sir, at a', at a'. There's a mistak' afloat
somewhere. I never was in sic a fix afore. This is a queer kintry, I tak'
it."
"Where are you from?"
That question set him on the right track at once. He could tell his story
if once he started at the beginning, though he found it impossible to make
these strangers comprehend his present dilemma; so beginning from the time
he left his own dooryard with the last cartload of potatoes, he gave them a
detailed account of his wanderings up to the time when he met the fine
young gentlemen in Halifax. But he had no idea how he got to Truro; that
was all a blank to him.
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