The Railway Children | Page 5

valve. I think we'd better keep it for a rainy day. In other words, I'll
give up Saturday afternoon to it, and you shall all help me."
"CAN girls help to mend engines?" Peter asked doubtfully.
"Of course they can. Girls are just as clever as boys, and don't you
forget it! How would you like to be an engine-driver, Phil?"
"My face would be always dirty, wouldn't it?" said Phyllis, in
unenthusiastic tones, "and I expect I should break something."
"I should just love it," said Roberta--"do you think I could when I'm
grown up, Daddy? Or even a stoker?"
"You mean a fireman," said Daddy, pulling and twisting at the engine.
"Well, if you still wish it, when you're grown up, we'll see about
making you a fire-woman. I remember when I was a boy--"
Just then there was a knock at the front door.
"Who on earth!" said Father. "An Englishman's house is his castle, of
course, but I do wish they built semi-detached villas with moats and
drawbridges."
Ruth--she was the parlour-maid and had red hair--came in and said that
two gentlemen wanted to see the master.
"I've shown them into the Library, Sir," said she.

"I expect it's the subscription to the Vicar's testimonial," said Mother,
"or else it's the choir holiday fund. Get rid of them quickly, dear. It
does break up an evening so, and it's nearly the children's bedtime."
But Father did not seem to be able to get rid of the gentlemen at all
quickly.
"I wish we HAD got a moat and drawbridge," said Roberta; "then,
when we didn't want people, we could just pull up the drawbridge and
no one else could get in. I expect Father will have forgotten about when
he was a boy if they stay much longer."
Mother tried to make the time pass by telling them a new fairy story
about a Princess with green eyes, but it was difficult because they could
hear the voices of Father and the gentlemen in the Library, and Father's
voice sounded louder and different to the voice he generally used to
people who came about testimonials and holiday funds.
Then the Library bell rang, and everyone heaved a breath of relief.
"They're going now," said Phyllis; "he's rung to have them shown out."
But instead of showing anybody out, Ruth showed herself in, and she
looked queer, the children thought.
"Please'm," she said, "the Master wants you to just step into the study.
He looks like the dead, mum; I think he's had bad news. You'd best
prepare yourself for the worst, 'm--p'raps it's a death in the family or a
bank busted or--"
"That'll do, Ruth," said Mother gently; "you can go."
Then Mother went into the Library. There was more talking. Then the
bell rang again, and Ruth fetched a cab. The children heard boots go
out and down the steps. The cab drove away, and the front door shut.
Then Mother came in. Her dear face was as white as her lace collar,
and her eyes looked very big and shining. Her mouth looked like just a
line of pale red--her lips were thin and not their proper shape at all.

"It's bedtime," she said. "Ruth will put you to bed."
"But you promised we should sit up late tonight because Father's come
home," said Phyllis.
"Father's been called away--on business," said Mother. "Come, darlings,
go at once."
They kissed her and went. Roberta lingered to give Mother an extra hug
and to whisper:
"It wasn't bad news, Mammy, was it? Is anyone dead--or--"
"Nobody's dead--no," said Mother, and she almost seemed to push
Roberta away. "I can't tell you anything tonight, my pet. Go, dear, go
NOW."
So Roberta went.
Ruth brushed the girls' hair and helped them to undress. (Mother almost
always did this herself.) When she had turned down the gas and left
them she found Peter, still dressed, waiting on the stairs.
"I say, Ruth, what's up?" he asked.
"Don't ask me no questions and I won't tell you no lies," the red-
headed Ruth replied. "You'll know soon enough."
Late that night Mother came up and kissed all three children as they lay
asleep. But Roberta was the only one whom the kiss woke, and she lay
mousey-still, and said nothing.
"If Mother doesn't want us to know she's been crying," she said to
herself as she heard through the dark the catching of her Mother's
breath, "we WON'T know it. That's all."
When they came down to breakfast the next morning, Mother had
already gone out.

"To London," Ruth said, and left them to their breakfast.
"There's something awful the matter," said Peter, breaking his egg.
"Ruth told me last night we should know soon enough."
"Did you ASK her?" said