Three little old ladies were particularly energetic
in his pursuit, and at last maddened him to the pitch of clapping
them into a carriage and daring them to emerge again. For the rest
of the time, one, two, or three of their heads protruded from
the window wailing enquiries about "a little wickerwork box"
whenever he drew near. There was a very stout man with a very stout
wife in shiny black; there was a little old man like an aged hostler.
"What CAN such people want in Rome?" asked Miss Winchelsea. "What
can it mean to them?" There was a very tall curate in a very small
straw hat, and a very short curate encumbered by a long camera
stand. The contrast amused Fanny very much. Once they heard some
one calling for "Snooks." "I always thought that name was invented
by novelists," said Miss Winchelsea. "Fancy! Snooks. I wonder which
IS Mr. Snooks." Finally they picked out a very stout and resolute
little man in a large check suit. "If he isn't Snooks, he ought
to be," said Miss Winchelsea.
Presently the conductor discovered Helen's attempt at a corner
in carriages. "Room for five," he bawled with a parallel translation
on his fingers.
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