gently and saying:--

"Wake up, dears. We're there."

They woke up, cold and melancholy, and stood shivering on the
draughty platform while the baggage was taken out of the train.
Then the engine, puffing and blowing, set to work again, and dragged
the train away. The children watched the tail-lights of the guard's
van disappear into the darkness.

This was the first train the children saw on that railway which was
in time to become so very dear to them. They did not guess then how
they would grow to love the railway, and how soon it would become
the centre of their new life, nor what wonders and changes it would
bring to them. They only shivered and sneezed and hoped the walk to
the new house would not be long. Peter's nose was colder than he
ever remembered it to have been before. Roberta's hat was crooked,
and the elastic seemed tighter than usual. Phyllis's shoe-laces had
come undone.

"Come," said Mother, "we've got to walk. There aren't any cabs
here."

The walk was dark and muddy. The children stumbled a little on the
rough road, and once Phyllis absently fell into a puddle, and was
picked up damp and unhappy. There were no gas-lamps on the road,
and the road was uphill. The cart went at a foot's pace, and they
followed the gritty crunch of its wheels. As their eyes got used to
the darkness, they could see the mound of boxes swaying dimly in
front of them.