The Railway Children | Page 3

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This etext was prepared by Les Bowler, St. Ives, Dorset.

THE RAILWAY CHILDREN

To my dear son Paul Bland, behind whose knowledge of railways my
ignorance confidently shelters.
Contents.
I. The beginning of things. II. Peter's coal-mine. III. The old gentleman.
IV. The engine-burglar. V. Prisoners and captives. VI. Saviours of the
train. VII. For valour. VIII. The amateur fireman. IX. The pride of
Perks. X. The terrible secret. XI. The hound in the red jersey. XII. What
Bobbie brought home. XIII. The hound's grandfather. XIV. The End.

Chapter I.
The beginning of things.
They were not railway children to begin with. I don't suppose they had
ever thought about railways except as a means of getting to Maskelyne
and Cook's, the Pantomime, Zoological Gardens, and Madame
Tussaud's. They were just ordinary suburban children, and they lived

with their Father and Mother in an ordinary red-brick-fronted villa,
with coloured glass in the front door, a tiled passage that was called a
hall, a bath-room with hot and cold water, electric bells, French
windows, and a good deal of white paint, and 'every modern
convenience', as the house-agents say.
There were three of them. Roberta was the eldest. Of course, Mothers
never have favourites, but if their Mother HAD had a favourite, it
might have been Roberta. Next came Peter, who wished to be an
Engineer when he grew up; and the youngest was Phyllis, who meant
extremely well.
Mother did not spend all her time in paying dull calls to dull ladies, and
sitting dully at home waiting for dull ladies to pay calls to her. She was
almost always there, ready to play with the children, and read to them,
and help them to do their home-lessons. Besides this she used to write
stories for them while they were at school, and read them aloud after
tea, and she always made up funny pieces of poetry for their birthdays
and for other great occasions, such as the christening of the new kittens,
or the refurnishing of the doll's house, or the time when they were
getting over the mumps.
These three lucky children always had everything they needed: pretty
clothes, good fires, a lovely nursery with heaps of toys, and a Mother
Goose wall-paper. They had a kind and merry nursemaid, and a dog
who was called James, and who was their very own. They also had a
Father who was just perfect--never cross, never unjust, and always
ready for a game--at least, if at any time he was NOT ready, he always
had an excellent reason for it, and explained the reason to the children
so interestingly and funnily that they felt sure he couldn't help himself.
You will think that they ought to have been very happy. And