Why did he tell me to write to Post-Office, Packworth, if he never meant to call for my letters?
A feeling of vexation crossed my mind, and mingled with the disappointment I felt at now being sure my journey here was a hopeless one.
I wandered about the town a bit, in the vague hope of something turning up.

But nothing did.

Nothing ever does when a fellow wants it.

So I turned tail, and faced the prospect of a solitary ten-mile walk back to Brownstroke.
I felt decidedly down.

This expedition to Packworth had been a favourite dream of mine for many months past, and somehow I had never anticipated there would be much difficulty, could I once get there, in discovering my friend Smith.