trains,
Gertie's father's house maintained an upright front in circumstances
that might have been equalled but could not have been surpassed by those
of the Eddystone Lighthouse in the wildest of winter storms, while it
excelled that celebrated building in this, that it faced a storm which
knew no calm, but raged furiously all the year round.

John Marrot was an engine-driver on the Grand National Trunk Railway.
This is equivalent to saying that he was a steady, sober, trustworthy
man. None but men of the best character are nowadays put in so
responsible a position. Nearly all the drivers on the line were of this
kind--some better than others, no doubt, but all good. Of course there
are exceptions to every rule. As in the best regulated families
accidents will happen, so, on the best conducted lines, an occasional
black sheep will get among the drivers, but this is the exception that
proves the rule. The rule in the Grand National Trunk Railway was--get
the best drivers and pay them well. The same may be said of the
firemen, whose ambition was ultimately to drive the iron chargers which
they fed. Besides being all that we have said, John was a big, burly,
soft-hearted, hard-headed man, who knew that two and two in ordinary
circumstances made four, and who didn't require to be told that his left
foot was not his right one.

It was generally supposed that John Marrot had no nerves, and that his
muscles had imbibed some of the iron of which his engine was composed.
This was a mistake, though there was some truth in both suppositions.

John's family consisted of himself when at home, which, although often,
was never for long; his wife--fat and fair, capable of being roused,
but, on the whole, a good, sensible, loving woman; his eldest daughter,
Lucy or Loo--nineteen, dark, pretty, and amiable; his youngest daughter,
Gertrude, _alias_ Gertie--six, sunny and serious, at least as serious as
was possible for one so young, so innocent, so healthy, and so happy as
she; his son Bob, aged twelve, who was a lamp-boy at the great station
not far off, and of whom it may be briefly said that he was "no better
than he should be," and, lastly, the baby--not yet at the walking period
of life, with a round head, round body, round eyes, and a round dozen at
least--if not more--of hairs standing straight up on the top of his bald
pate, suggesting the idea that he must at some period of his life have
been singed by a passing locomot