ad sighed and opened her eyes,
and rolled herself over and begun to cry. This cheered the others
wonderfully. They had seen her cry before, but they had never seen her
faint, nor anyone else, for the matter of that. They had not known what
to do when she was fainting, but now she was only crying they could
thump her on the back and tell her not to, just as they always did. And
presently, when she stopped crying, they were able to laugh at her for
being such a coward as to faint.

When the station was reached, the three were the heroes of an agitated
meeting on the platform.

The praises they got for their "prompt action," their "common sense,"
their "ingenuity," were enough to have turned anybody's head. Phyllis
enjoyed herself thoroughly. She had never been a real heroine before,
and the feeling was delicious. Peter's ears got very red. Yet he, too,
enjoyed himself. Only Bobbie wished they all wouldn't. She wanted to get
away.

"You'll hear from the Company about this, I expect," said the Station
Master.

Bobbie wished she might never hear of it again. She pulled at Peter's
jacket.

"Oh, come away, come away! I want to go home," she said.

So they went. And as they went Station Master and Porter and guards and
driver and fireman and passengers sent up a cheer.

"Oh, listen," cried Phyllis; "that's for US!"

"Yes," said Peter. "I say, I am glad I thought about something red, and
waving it."

"How lucky we DID put on our red flannel petticoats!" said Phyllis.

Bobbie said nothing. She was thinking of the horrible mound, and the
trustful train rushing towards it.

"And it was US that saved them," said Peter.

"How dreadful if they had all been killed!" said Phyllis; "wouldn't it,
Bobbie?"

"We never got any cherries, after all," said Bobbie.

The others thought her rather heartless.

Chapter VII. For valour.

I hope you don't mind my telling you a good deal about Roberta. The fact
is I am growing very fond of her. The more I observe her the more I love
her. And I notice all sorts of things about her that I like.

For instance, she was quite oddly anxious to make other people happy.
And she could keep a secret, a tolerably rare accomplishment. Also she
had the power of silent sympathy. That sounds rather dull, I know, but
it's not so dull as it sounds. It just means that a person is able
to know that you are unhappy, and to love you extra on that account,
without bothering you by telling you al