I think it must have been Holl, the grocer."
"Had he got a long white beard?"
"Yes."
"Then it was Mr. Holl.
He's been Mayor twice.
He's an alderman, you know."
"Really!" said Sophia.
"But wasn't it queer?"
"Eh! Bless us!" exclaimed Constance.
"Don't talk about queer!
It's terrible how time flies."
The conversation stopped, and it refused to start again.
Two women who are full of affectionate curiosity about each other, and who have not seen each other for thirty years, and who are anxious to confide in each other, ought to discover no difficulty in talking; but somehow these two could not talk.
Constance perceived that Sophia was impeded by the same awkwardness as herself.
"Well I never!" cried Sophia, suddenly.
She had glanced out of the window and had seen two camels and an elephant in a field close to the line, amid manufactories and warehouses and advertisements of soap.
"Oh!" said Constance.
"That's Barnum's, you know.
They have what they call a central depot here, because it's the middle of England."
Constance spoke proudly. (After all, there can be only one middle.) It was on her tongue to say, in her 'tart' manner, that Fossette ought to be with the camels, but she refrained.
Sophia hit on the excellent idea of noting all the buildings that were new to her and all the landmarks that she remembered.
It was surprising how little the district had altered.
"Same smoke!" said Sophia.
"Same smoke!" Constance agreed.
"It's even worse," said Sophia.
"Do you think so?" Constance was slightly piqued.
"But they're doing something now for smoke abatement."
"I must have forgotten how dirty it was!" said Sophia.
"I suppose that's it.
I'd no idea ...!"
"Really!" said Constance. Then, in candid admission,
"The fact is, it is dirty.
You can't imagine what work it makes, especially with window-curtains."
As the train puffed under Trafalgar Road, Constance pointed to a new station that was being built there, to be called
'Trafalgar Road' station.
"Won't it be strange?" said she, accustomed to the eternal sequence of Loop Lane stations--Turnhill, Bursley, Bleakridge, Hanbridge, Cauldon, Knype, Trent Vale, and Longshaw.
A
'Trafalgar Road' inserting itself between Bleakridge and Hanbridge seemed to her excessively curious.
"Yes, I suppose it will," Sophia agreed.
"But of course it's not the same to you," said Constance, dashed.
She indicated the glories of Bursley Park, as the train slackened for Bursley, with modesty.
Sophia gazed, and vaguely recognized the slopes where she had taken her first walk with Gerald Scales.
Nobody accosted them at Bursley Station, and they drove to the Square in a cab.
Amy was at the window; she held up Spot, who was in a plenary state of cleanliness, rivalling the purity of Amy's apron.
"Good afternoon, m'm," said Amy, officiously, to Sophia, as Sophia came up the steps.
"Good afternoon, Amy," Sophia replied.
She flattered Amy in thus showing that she was acquainted with her name; but if ever a servant was put into her place by mere tone, Amy was put into her place on that occasion.
Constance trembled at Sophia's frigid and arrogant politeness.
Certainly Sophia was not used to being addressed first by servants.
But Amy was not quite the ordinary servant.