mining. It'll take thousands of years for you to burn up all that
coal and get to the middle parts."

"Not quite. But did you do it for a lark or what?"

"Not much lark carting that beastly heavy stuff up the hill," said
Peter, indignantly.

"Then why did you?" The Station Master's voice was so much kinder
now that Peter replied:--

"You know that wet day? Well, Mother said we were too poor to have
a fire. We always had fires when it was cold at our other house,
and--"

"DON'T!" interrupted Bobbie, in a whisper.

"Well," said the Station Master, rubbing his chin thoughtfully,
"I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll look over it this once. But you
remember, young gentleman, stealing is stealing, and what's mine
isn't yours, whether you call it mining or whether you don't. Run
along home."

"Do you mean you aren't going to do anything to us? Well, you are a
brick," said Peter, with enthusiasm.

"You're a dear," said Bobbie.

"You're a darling," said Phyllis.