Діти залізниці

           OnthewayshepassedtheoldladyfromthePost-office,whogaveherakissandahug,but,rathertoBobbie’ssurprise,nowordsexcept:—

           "Godblessyou,love—"and,afterapause,"runalong—do."

           Thedraper’sboy,whohadsometimesbeenalittlelessthancivilandalittlemorethancontemptuous,nowtouchedhiscap,andutteredtheremarkablewords:—

           "‘Morning,Miss,I’msure—"

           Theblacksmith,comingalongwithanopennewspaperinhishand,wasevenmorestrangeinhismanner.Hegrinnedbroadly,though,asarule,hewasamannotgiventosmiles,andwavedthenewspaperlongbeforehecameuptoher.Andashepassedher,hesaid,inanswertoher"Goodmorning":—

           "Goodmorningtoyou,Missie,andmanyofthem!Iwishyoujoy,thatIdo!"

           "Oh!"saidBobbietoherself,andherheartquickeneditsbeats,"somethingISgoingtohappen!Iknowitis—everyoneissoodd,likepeopleareindreams."

           TheStationMasterwrungherhandwarmly.Infactheworkeditupanddownlikeapump-handle.Buthegavehernoreasonforthisunusuallyenthusiasticgreeting.Heonlysaid:—

           "The11.54’sabitlate,Miss—theextraluggagethisholidaytime,"andwentawayveryquicklyintothatinnerTempleofhisintowhichevenBobbiedarednotfollowhim.

           Perkswasnottobeseen,andBobbiesharedthesolitudeoftheplatformwiththeStationCat.