"Oh, please," sniffed Bobbie, and stopped.
"Try again," said the engine-driver, encouragingly.
Bobbie tried again.
"Please, Mr. Engineer," she said, "I did call out to you from the line, but you didn't hear me—and I just climbed up to touch you on the arm—quite gently I meant to do it—and then I fell into the coals—and I am so sorry if I frightened you. Oh, don't be cross—oh, please don't!" She sniffed again.
"We ain't so much cross," said the fireman, "as interested like. It ain't every day a little gell tumbles into our coal bunker outer the sky, is it, Bill? What did you do it for—eh?"
"That's the pint," agreed the engine-driver; "what did you do it for?"
Bobbie found that she had not quite stopped crying. The engine-driver patted her on the back and said: "Here, cheer up, Mate. It ain't so bad as all that 'ere, I'll be bound."
"I wanted," said Bobbie, much cheered to find herself addressed as "Mate,"—"I only wanted to ask you if you'd be so kind as to mend this." She picked up the brown paper parcel from among the
