Діти залізниці

           Bobbiefeltexactlyasthoughsheweregoingtocry—youknowthatoddfeelinginthebridgeofyournoseandtheprickinginyoureyelids?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-tray—therewasaringofforget-me-notsroundeachplate.Thecakehadawreathofwhitelilacroundit,andinthemiddlewassomethingthatlookedlikeapatternalldonewithsinglebloomsoflilacorwallflowerorlaburnum.

           "It’samap—amapoftherailway!"criedPeter.