Дети железной дороги

The engine-burglar.

           Bobbiefeltexactlyasthoughsheweregoingtocryyouknowthatoddfeelinginthebridgeofyournoseandtheprickinginyoureyelids?Butbeforeshehadtimetobegintheywereallkissingandhuggingher.

           "Now,"saidMother,"lookatyourpresents."

           Theywereverynicepresents.Therewasagreenandredneedle-bookthatPhyllishadmadeherselfinsecretmoments.TherewasadarlinglittlesilverbroochofMother’sshapedlikeabuttercup,whichBobbiehadknownandlovedforyears,butwhichshehadnever,neverthoughtwouldcometobeherveryown.TherewasalsoapairofblueglassvasesfromMrs.Viney.Robertahadseenandadmiredtheminthevillageshop.Andtherewerethreebirthdaycardswithprettypicturesandwishes.

           Motherfittedtheforget-me-notcrownonBobbie’sbrownhead.

           "Andnowlookatthetable,"shesaid.

           Therewasacakeonthetablecoveredwithwhitesugar,with‘DearBobbie’onitinpinksweets,andtherewerebunsandjam;butthenicestthingwasthatthebigtablewasalmostcoveredwithflowers--wallflowerswerelaidallroundthetea-traytherewasaringofforget-me-notsroundeachplate.Thecakehadawreathofwhitelilacroundit,andinthemiddlewassomethingthatlookedlikeapatternalldonewithsinglebloomsoflilacorwallflowerorlaburnum.

           "It’samapamapoftherailway!"criedPeter.

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