The Railway Children by E. Nesbit (most important books of all time txt) đ
- Author: E. Nesbit
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The threefold letter ran:â
âDear Mr. Jabez Inglewood,âThank you very much. We did not want to be rewarded but only to save the train, but we are glad you think so and thank you very much. The time and place you say will be quite convenient to us. Thank you very much.
âYour affecate little friend,â
Then came the name, and after it:â
âP.S. Thank you very much.â
âWashing is much easier than ironing,â said Bobbie, taking the clean dry dresses off the line. âI do love to see things come clean. Oh- -I donât know how we shall wait till itâs time to know what presentation theyâre going to present!â
When at lastâit seemed a very long time afterâit was THE day, the three children went down to the station at the proper time. And everything that happened was so odd that it seemed like a dream. The Station Master came out to meet themâin his best clothes, as Peter noticed at onceâand led them into the waiting room where once they had played the advertisement game. It looked quite different now. A carpet had been put downâand there were pots of roses on the mantelpiece and on the window ledgesâgreen branches stuck up, like holly and laurel are at Christmas, over the framed advertisement of Cookâs Tours and the Beauties of Devon and the Paris Lyons Railway. There were quite a number of people there besides the Porterâtwo or three ladies in smart dresses, and quite a crowd of gentlemen in high hats and frock coatsâbesides everybody who belonged to the station. They recognized several people who had been in the train on the red-flannel-petticoat day. Best of all their own old gentleman was there, and his coat and hat and collar seemed more than ever different from anyone elseâs. He shook hands with them and then everybody sat down on chairs, and a gentleman in spectaclesâthey found out afterwards that he was the District Superintendentâbegan quite a long speechâvery clever indeed. I am not going to write the speech down. First, because you would think it dull; and secondly, because it made all the children blush so, and get so hot about the ears that I am quite anxious to get away from this part of the subject; and thirdly, because the gentleman took so many words to say what he had to say that I really havenât time to write them down. He said all sorts of nice things about the childrenâs bravery and presence of mind, and when he had done he sat down, and everyone who was there clapped and said, âHear, hear.â
And then the old gentleman got up and said things, too. It was very like a prize-giving. And then he called the children one by one, by their names, and gave each of them a beautiful gold watch and chain. And inside the watches were engraved after the name of the watchâs new owner:â
âFrom the Directors of the Northern and Southern Railway in grateful recognition of the courageous and prompt action which averted an accident on â 1905.â
The watches were the most beautiful you can possibly imagine, and each one had a blue leather case to live in when it was at home.
âYou must make a speech now and thank everyone for their kindness,â whispered the Station Master in Peterâs ear and pushed him forward. âBegin âLadies and Gentlemen,ââ he added.
Each of the children had already said âThank you,â quite properly.
âOh, dear,â said Peter, but he did not resist the push.
âLadies and Gentlemen,â he said in a rather husky voice. Then there was a pause, and he heard his heart beating in his throat. âLadies and Gentlemen,â he went on with a rush, âitâs most awfully good of you, and we shall treasure the watches all our livesâbut really we donât deserve it because what we did wasnât anything, really. At least, I mean it was awfully exciting, and what I mean to sayâthank you all very, very much.â
The people clapped Peter more than they had done the District Superintendent, and then everybody shook hands with them, and as soon as politeness would let them, they got away, and tore up the hill to Three Chimneys with their watches in their hands.
It was a wonderful dayâthe kind of day that very seldom happens to anybody and to most of us not at all.
âI did want to talk to the old gentleman about something else,â said Bobbie, âbut it was so publicâlike being in church.â
âWhat did you want to say?â asked Phyllis.
âIâll tell you when Iâve thought about it more,â said Bobbie.
So when she had thought a little more she wrote a letter.
âMy dearest old gentleman,â it said; âI want most awfully to ask you something. If you could get out of the train and go by the next, it would do. I do not want you to give me anything. Mother says we ought not to. And besides, we do not want any THINGS. Only to talk to you about a Prisoner and Captive. Your loving little friend,
âBobbie.â
She got the Station Master to give the letter to the old gentleman, and next day she asked Peter and Phyllis to come down to the station with her at the time when the train that brought the old gentleman from town would be passing through.
She explained her idea to themâand they approved thoroughly.
They had all washed their hands and faces, and brushed their hair, and were looking as tidy as they knew how. But Phyllis, always unlucky, had upset a jug of lemonade down the front of her dress. There was no time to changeâand the wind happening to blow from the coal yard, her frock was soon powdered with grey, which stuck to the sticky lemonade stains and made her look, as Peter said, âlike any little gutter child.â
It was decided that she should keep behind the others as much as possible.
âPerhaps the old gentleman wonât notice,â said Bobbie. âThe aged are often weak in the eyes.â
There was no sign of weakness, however, in the eyes, or in any other part of the old gentleman, as he stepped from the train and looked up and down the platform.
The three children, now that it came to the point, suddenly felt that rush of deep shyness which makes your ears red and hot, your hands warm and wet, and the tip of your nose pink and shiny.
âOh,â said Phyllis, âmy heartâs thumping like a steam-engineâright under my sash, too.â
âNonsense,â said Peter, âpeopleâs hearts arenât under their sashes.â
âI donât careâmine is,â said Phyllis.
âIf youâre going to talk like a poetry-book,â said Peter, âmy heartâs in my mouth.â
âMy heartâs in my bootsâif you come to that,â said Roberta; âbut do come onâheâll think weâre idiots.â
âHe wonât be far wrong,â said Peter, gloomily. And they went forward to meet the old gentleman.
âHullo,â he said, shaking hands with them all in turn. âThis is a very great pleasure.â
âIt WAS good of you to get out,â Bobbie said, perspiring and polite.
He took her arm and drew her into the waiting room where she and the others had played the advertisement game the day they found the Russian. Phyllis and Peter followed. âWell?â said the old gentleman, giving Bobbieâs arm a kind little shake before he let it go. âWell? What is it?â
âOh, please!â said Bobbie.
âYes?â said the old gentleman.
âWhat I mean to sayââ said Bobbie.
âWell?â said the old gentleman.
âItâs all very nice and kind,â said she.
âBut?â he said.
âI wish I might say something,â she said.
âSay it,â said he.
âWell, then,â said Bobbieâand out came the story of the Russian who had written the beautiful book about poor people, and had been sent to prison and to Siberia for just that.
âAnd what we want more than anything in the world is to find his wife and children for him,â said Bobbie, âbut we donât know how. But you must be most horribly clever, or you wouldnât be a Direction of the Railway. And if YOU knew howâand would? Weâd rather have that than anything else in the world. Weâd go without the watches, even, if you could sell them and find his wife with the money.â
And the others said so, too, though not with so much enthusiasm.
âHum,â said the old gentleman, pulling down the white waistcoat that had the big gilt buttons on it, âwhat did you say the name wasâ Fryingpansky?â
âNo, no,â said Bobbie earnestly. âIâll write it down for you. It doesnât really look at all like that except when you say it. Have you a bit of pencil and the back of an envelope?â she asked.
The old gentleman got out a gold pencil-case and a beautiful, sweet-smelling, green Russian leather note-book and opened it at a new page.
âHere,â he said, âwrite here.â
She wrote down âSzezcpansky,â and said:â
âThatâs how you write it. You CALL it Shepansky.â
The old gentleman took out a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles and fitted them on his nose. When he had read the name, he looked quite different.
âTHAT man? Bless my soul!â he said. âWhy, Iâve read his book! Itâs translated into every European language. A fine bookâa noble book. And so your mother took him inâlike the good Samaritan. Well, well. Iâll tell you what, youngstersâyour mother must be a very good woman.â
âOf course she is,â said Phyllis, in astonishment.
âAnd youâre a very good man,â said Bobbie, very shy, but firmly resolved to be polite.
âYou flatter me,â said the old gentleman, taking off his hat with a flourish. âAnd now am I to tell you what I think of you?â
âOh, please donât,â said Bobbie, hastily.
âWhy?â asked the old gentleman.
âI donât exactly know,â said Bobbie. âOnlyâif itâs horrid, I donât want you to; and if itâs nice, Iâd rather you didnât.â
The old gentleman laughed.
âWell, then,â he said, âIâll only just say that Iâm very glad you came to me about thisâvery glad, indeed. And I shouldnât be surprised if I found out something very soon. I know a great many Russians in London, and every Russian knows HIS name. Now tell me all about yourselves.â
He turned to the others, but there was only one other, and that was Peter. Phyllis had disappeared.
âTell me all about yourself,â said the old gentleman again. And, quite naturally, Peter was stricken dumb.
âAll right, weâll have an examination,â said the old gentleman; âyou two sit on the table, and Iâll sit on the bench and ask questions.â
He did, and out came their names and agesâtheir Fatherâs name and businessâhow long they had lived at Three Chimneys and a great deal more.
The questions were beginning to turn on a herring and a half for three halfpence, and a pound of lead and a pound of feathers, when the door of the waiting room was kicked open by a boot; as the boot entered everyone could see that its lace was coming undoneâand in came Phyllis, very slowly and carefully.
In one hand she carried a large tin can, and in the other a thick slice of bread and butter.
âAfternoon tea,â she announced proudly, and held the can and the bread and butter out to the old gentleman, who took them and said:â
âBless my soul!â
âYes,â said Phyllis.
âItâs very thoughtful of you,â said the old gentleman, âvery.â
âBut you might have got a cup,â said Bobbie, âand a plate.â
âPerks always drinks out of the can,â said Phyllis, flushing red. âI think it was very nice of him to give it me at allâlet alone cups and plates,â she added.
âSo do I,â said the old gentleman, and he
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