I
"BETTERSEA trem? Right, miss!" My wife, who has been married long
enough to feel deeply gratified at being mistaken for a maiden lady,
smiled seraphically at the conductor, and allowed herself to be hoisted
up the steps of the majestic vehicle provided by a paternal county
council to convey passengers--at a loss to the ratepayers, I
understand--from the Embankment to Battersea.
Presently we ground our way round a curve and began to cross Westminster
Bridge. The conductor, whose innate cockney bonhomie his high official
position had failed to eradicate, presented himself before us and
collected our fares.
"What part of Bettersea did you require, sir?" he asked of me.