"You had my last one," said Phyllis, indignantly, "to tie up the rabbit-hutch door with. But you're very ungrateful. It's quite right what it says in the poetry book about sharper than a serpent it is to have a toothless child,—but it means ungrateful when it says toothless. Miss Lowe told me so."
"All right," said Peter, impatiently, "I'm sorry. There! Now will you come on?"
They reached the station and spent a joyous two hours with the Porter. He was a worthy man and seemed never tired of answering questions that began with "Why—" which many people in higher ranks of life often seem weary of.
He told them many things that they had not known before,—as for instance that the things that hook carriages together are called couplings, and that the pipes like great serpents that hang over the couplings are meant to stop the train with.
"If you could get a holt of one o' them when the train is going and pull 'em apart," said he, "she'd stop dead off with a jerk."
"Who's she?" said Phyllis.
"The train, of course," said the Porter. After that the train was never again "It" to the children.
"And you know the thing in the carriages where
