station, had got there early that morning, and he had waited at the door where the young man stands holding the interesting machine that clips the tickets, and he had said something to every single passenger who passed through that door. And after nodding to what the old gentleman had said,—and the nods expressed every shade of surprise, interest, doubt, cheerful pleasure, and grumpy agreement,—each passenger had gone on to the platform and read one certain part of it. And when the passengers got into the train, they had told the other passengers who were already there what the old gentleman had said, and then the other passengers had also looked in their newspapers and seemed very astonished and, mostly, pleased. Then, when the train, passed the fence where the three children were, newspapers and hands and handkerchiefs were waved madly, till all that side of the train was fluttery with white like the pictures of the King's Coronation in the biograph at Maskelyne and Cook's. To the children it almost seemed as though the train itself was alive, and was at last responding to the love that they had given it so freely and so long.
"It is most extraordinary rum!" said Peter.
