ung gent as used to take down the
numbers of every single one he seed; in a green note-book with silver
corners it was, owing to his father being very well-to-do in the
wholesale stationery."

Peter felt that he could take down numbers, too, even if he was not
the son of a wholesale stationer. As he did not happen to have a green
leather note-book with silver corners, the Porter gave him a yellow
envelope and on it he noted:--

379
663

and felt that this was the beginning of what would be a most interesting
collection.

That night at tea he asked Mother if she had a green leather note-book
with silver corners. She had not; but when she heard what he wanted it
for she gave him a little black one.

"It has a few pages torn out," said she; "but it will hold quite a lot
of numbers, and when it's full I'll give you another. I'm so glad you
like the railway. Only, please, you mustn't walk on the line."

"Not if we face the way the train's coming?" asked Peter, after a gloomy
pause, in which glances of despair were exchanged.

"No--really not," said Mother.

Then Phyllis said, "Mother, didn't YOU ever walk on the railway lines
when you were little?"

Mother was an honest and honourable Mother, so she had to say, "Yes."

"Well, then," said Phyllis.

"But, darlings, you don't know how fond I am of you. What should I do if
you got hurt?"

"Are you fonder of us than Granny was of you when you were little?"
Phyllis asked. Bobbie made signs to her to stop, but Phyllis never did
see signs, no matter how plain they might be.

Mother did not answer for a minute. She got up to put more water in the
teapot.

"No one," she said at last, "ever loved anyone more than my mother loved
me."

Then she was quiet again, and Bobbie kicked Phyllis hard under the
table, because Bobbie understood a little bit the thoughts that were
making Mother so quiet--the thoughts of the time when Mother was a
little girl and was all the world to HER mother. It seems so easy and
natural to run to Mother when one is in trouble. Bobbie understood a
little how people do not leave off running to their mothers when they
are in trouble even when they are grown up, and she thought she knew a
little what it must be to be sad, and have no mother to run to any more.

So she kicked Phyllis, who said:--

"What are you kicking me like that for, Bob?"

And then Mother laughed a little and sighed and said:--

"Very well, then. Only let me b