and captives.

It was one day when Mother had gone to Maidbridge. She had gone alone,
but the children were to go to the station to meet her. And, loving the
station as they did, it was only natural that they should be there a
good hour before there was any chance of Mother's train arriving, even
if the train were punctual, which was most unlikely. No doubt they would
have been just as early, even if it had been a fine day, and all the
delights of woods and fields and rocks and rivers had been open to them.
But it happened to be a very wet day and, for July, very cold. There was
a wild wind that drove flocks of dark purple clouds across the sky "like
herds of dream-elephants," as Phyllis said. And the rain stung sharply,
so that the way to the station was finished at a run. Then the rain fell
faster and harder, and beat slantwise against the windows of the booking
office and of the chill place that had General Waiting Room on its door.

"It's like being in a besieged castle," Phyllis said; "look at the
arrows of the foe striking against the battlements!"

"It's much more like a great garden-squirt," said Peter.

They decided to wait on the up side, for the down platform looked very
wet indeed, and the rain was driving right into the little bleak shelter
where down-passengers have to wait for their trains.

The hour would be full of incident and of interest, for there would be
two up trains and one down to look at before the one that should bring
Mother back.

"Perhaps it'll have stopped raining by then," said Bobbie; "anyhow, I'm
glad I brought Mother's waterproof and umbrella."

They went into the desert spot labelled General Waiting Room, and the
time passed pleasantly enough in a game of advertisements. You know the
game, of course? It is something like dumb Crambo. The players take
it in turns to go out, and then come back and look as like some
advertisement as they can, and the others have to guess what
advertisement it is meant to be. Bobbie came in and sat down under
Mother's umbrella and made a sharp face, and everyone knew she was the
fox who sits under the umbrella in the advertisement. Phyllis tried to
make a Magic Carpet of Mother's waterproof, but it would not stand out
stiff and raft-like as a Magic Carpet should, and nobody could guess
it. Everyone thought Peter was carrying things a little too far when he
blacked his face all over with coal-dust and struck a spidery attitude
and said he was the