The Railway Children | Page 6

Roberta, with scorn.
"Yes, I did!" said Peter, angrily. "If you could go to bed without caring
whether Mother was worried or not, I couldn't. So there."
"I don't think we ought to ask the servants things Mother doesn't tell
us," said Roberta.
"That's right, Miss Goody-goody," said Peter, "preach away."
"I'M not goody," said Phyllis, "but I think Bobbie's right this time."
"Of course. She always is. In her own opinion," said Peter.
"Oh, DON'T!" cried Roberta, putting down her egg-spoon; "don't let's
be horrid to each other. I'm sure some dire calamity is happening. Don't
let's make it worse!"
"Who began, I should like to know?" said Peter.
Roberta made an effort, and answered:--
"I did, I suppose, but--"
"Well, then," said Peter, triumphantly. But before he went to school he
thumped his sister between the shoulders and told her to cheer up.
The children came home to one o'clock dinner, but Mother was not
there. And she was not there at tea-time.
It was nearly seven before she came in, looking so ill and tired that the
children felt they could not ask her any questions. She sank into an
arm-chair. Phyllis took the long pins out of her hat, while Roberta took
off her gloves, and Peter unfastened her walking- shoes and fetched her

soft velvety slippers for her.
When she had had a cup of tea, and Roberta had put eau-de-Cologne on
her poor head that ached, Mother said:--
"Now, my darlings, I want to tell you something. Those men last night
did bring very bad news, and Father will be away for some time. I am
very worried about it, and I want you all to help me, and not to make
things harder for me."
"As if we would!" said Roberta, holding Mother's hand against her
face.
"You can help me very much," said Mother, "by being good and happy
and not quarrelling when I'm away"--Roberta and Peter exchanged
guilty glances--"for I shall have to be away a good deal."
"We won't quarrel. Indeed we won't," said everybody. And meant it,
too.
"Then," Mother went on, "I want you not to ask me any questions about
this trouble; and not to ask anybody else any questions."
Peter cringed and shuffled his boots on the carpet.
"You'll promise this, too, won't you?" said Mother.
"I did ask Ruth," said Peter, suddenly. "I'm very sorry, but I did."
"And what did she say?"
"She said I should know soon enough."
"It isn't necessary for you to know anything about it," said Mother; "it's
about business, and you never do understand business, do you?"
"No," said Roberta; "is it something to do with Government?" For
Father was in a Government Office.

"Yes," said Mother. "Now it's bed-time, my darlings. And don't YOU
worry. It'll all come right in the end."
"Then don't YOU worry either, Mother," said Phyllis, "and we'll all be
as good as gold."
Mother sighed and kissed them.
"We'll begin being good the first thing tomorrow morning," said Peter,
as they went upstairs.
"Why not NOW?" said Roberta.
"There's nothing to be good ABOUT now, silly," said Peter.
"We might begin to try to FEEL good," said Phyllis, "and not call
names."
"Who's calling names?" said Peter. "Bobbie knows right enough that
when I say 'silly', it's just the same as if I said Bobbie."
"WELL," said Roberta.
"No, I don't mean what you mean. I mean it's just a--what is it Father
calls it?--a germ of endearment! Good night."
The girls folded up their clothes with more than usual neatness-- which
was the only way of being good that they could think of.
"I say," said Phyllis, smoothing out her pinafore, "you used to say it
was so dull--nothing happening, like in books. Now something HAS
happened."
"I never wanted things to happen to make Mother unhappy," said
Roberta. "Everything's perfectly horrid."
Everything continued to be perfectly horrid for some weeks.
Mother was nearly always out. Meals were dull and dirty. The

between-maid was sent away, and Aunt Emma came on a visit. Aunt
Emma was much older than Mother. She was going abroad to be a
governess. She was very busy getting her clothes ready, and they were
very ugly, dingy clothes, and she had them always littering about, and
the sewing-machine seemed to whir--on and on all day and most of the
night. Aunt Emma believed in keeping children in their proper places.
And they more than returned the compliment. Their idea of Aunt
Emma's proper place was anywhere where they were not. So they saw
very little of her. They preferred the company of the servants, who
were more amusing. Cook, if in a good temper, could sing comic songs,
and the housemaid, if she happened not to be offended with you,