No, no; be quick, girl!
Nor Willum aint maimed, is he? He aint dead? Oh dont say Willum is
Bill Garvies all right, said the engine-driver, as he brushed past the girl and went up-stairs.
Now, although Mrs Marrots ears were totally deaf to locomotives they were alert enough to the sound of her husbands voice. When, therefore, he entered the kitchen, he found her standing on the floor with an ample shawl thrown round her.
Nothing wrong? she inquired anxiously.
Nothing, Molly, my dear, only I got a slight bruise on the leg in the engine-shed to-day, and I had to go up an show it to the doctor, dye see, before comin home, which has made me later than usual.
Are you sure its not a back hurt, father? asked Loo, coming in at the momentalso enveloped in a shawl, and looking anxious.
Sure? ay, Im sure enough; its only a scratch. See here.
Saying this he removed one of his boots, and pulling up his trousers displayed a bandaged leg.
Well, but we cant see through the bandages, you know, said Mrs Marrot.
Let me take them off, father, and Ill replace
Take em off! exclaimed John, pulling down the leg of his trouser and rising with a laugh. No, no, Loo; why, its only just bin done up all snug by the doctor, whod kick up a pretty shindy if he found I had undid it. Theres one good will come of it anyhow, I shall have a day or two in the house with you all; for the doctor said I must give it a short rest. So, off to bed again, Loo. This is not an hour for a respectable young woman to be wanderin about in her night-dress. Away with you!
Was any one else hurt, father? said Loo. She asked the question anxiously, but there was a slight flush on her cheek and a peculiar smile which betrayed some hidden feeling.
No one else, returned her father. I tell ee it wasnt an accident at allit was only a engine that brushed up agin me as I was comin out o the shed. Thats all; so I just came home and left Will Garvie to look after our engine. There, run away.
Loo smiled, nodded and disappeared, followed by Mrs Marrot, who went, like a sensible woman, to see that her alarmed domestic was all right. While she was away John went to the crib and kissed the rosy cheek of his sleeping boy. Then he bent over the bed with the white dimity curtains to Miss Gerties forehead, for which purpose he had to remove a mass of curly hair with his big brown hand.
Bless you, my darling, he said in silent speech, you came near bein fatherless this nightnearer than you ever was before. He kissed her again tenderly, and a fervent thank the Lord! rose from his heart to heaven.
In less than half-an-hour after this the engine-drivers family sank into profound repose, serenaded by the music of a mineral train from the black country, which rushed laboriously past their dwelling like an over-weighted thunderbolt.
Chapter Two.
The Driver Visits a Little Elderly Gentlewoman and Prepares the Iron Horse for Action
Next day John Marrot spent the brief period of repose accorded by the doctor to his leg in romping about the house with the baby in his arms. Being a large man, accustomed to much elbow-room and rapid motion, and the house being small, John may be said to have been a dangerous character in the family on such occasions. Apart from baby, no elephant was ever more sluggish in his motions; but when coupledprofessionally speakingto his own tender infant, John knew no bounds, his wife knew no rest and his baby knew no higher earthly bliss.
Sometimes it was on his shoulder, sometimes on his head and often on his foot, riding with railway speed to Banbury Cross. Again it was on its back in the crib or on the bed being tickled into fits of laughter, which bid fair at times to merge into fits of convulsion, to the horror of little Gertie, who came in for a large share of that delightful holidays enjoyment, but whose spirit was frequently harrowed with alarm at the riotous conduct of her invalid father. In his glee the man might have been compared to a locomotive with a bad driver, who was constantly shutting off the steam and clapping on the brakes too soon or too late, thus either falling short of or overshooting his mark. What between the door and the dresser, the fire, the crib, the window, and the furniture, John showed himself a dreadfully bad pilot and was constantly running into or backing out of difficulties. At last towards the afternoon of that day, while performing a furious charge round the room with baby on his head, he overturned the wash-tub, which filled the baby with delirious joy, and Gertie with pleasurable alarm.
As for Mrs Marrot, she was too happy to have her husband at home for a whole day to care much about trifles, nevertheless she felt it her duty to reprove him, lest the children should learn a bad lesson.
There now, John, I knew youd do it at last. Youre much too violent, and you shouldnt ought to risk the babys neck in that way. Such a mess! How can you expect me to keep things tidy if you go on so?
John was very penitent. He did not reply at first, but putting baby into the cribwhere it instantly drowned with a great yell the shriek of a passing trainhe went down on his knees and began to swab up the water with a jack-towel. Loo ran laughingly from the corner where she had been sewing, and insisted on doing it for him.
Youll hurt your leg, father, if you bend it so, and Im sure it must be swelled and pained enough already with so much romping.
Not a bit, Loo, objected John. It was me as caused the mess, an justice requires that I should swab it up. There, go sew that sentiment into a sampler an hang it up over yer bed.
But Loo would not give in. While they were still engaged in the controversy the door opened, and young Bob Marrot stood before them with his eyes wide open and his hair straight up on end, as if he had recently seen a ghost. This aspect, however, was no sign of alarm, being his normal condition.
Ha! seems to me, somehow, that somebodys bin up to somethin.
Right Bob, replied his father, rising from his knees and throwing the jack-towel at him.
The lad easily evaded the shot, being well accustomed to elude much more deadly missiles, and, picking up the towel, quietly set to work to perform the duty in dispute.
Youre wanted, he said, looking up at his father while he wrung the towel over a tin basin.
Eh! Where?
Up at the shed.
Im on sick leave, said John.
Cant help that. The 6:30 p.m. passenger train must be drove, and theres nobody left but you to drive it. Jones is away with a goods train owin to Maxwell having sprained his ankle, and Long Thompson is down with small-pox, so youll have to do it. I offered em my services, but the manager he said that intelligent lads couldnt be spared for such menial work, and told me to go and fetch you.
Maxwell had no business to sprain his ankle, said John Marrot. Howsever, he added cheerfully, Ive had a rare good holiday, an the legs all but right again, so, Molly, lets have an early tea; Ill give it a good rest for another half-hour and then be ready for the 6:30 p.m-ers. Cut off your steam, will you?
This last observation was made to the baby, and was accompanied by a shake and a toss towards the ceiling which caused him to obey instantly, under the impression, no doubt that the fun was to be renewed. Being, however, consigned to the care of Gertie he again let on the steam and kept it up during the whole time the family were at teawhich meal they enjoyed thoroughly, quite regardless of the storm.
He was asleep when his father rose at last and buttoned his heavy coat up to the chin, while Mrs Marrot stood on tiptoe to arrange more carefully the woollen shawl round his neck.
Now, dont stand more than you can help on your hurt leg, John.
Certainly not, duckie, said John, stooping to kiss the upturned face; Ill sit on the rail as much as I can, like a Merican racoon. By the way, he added, turning suddenly to Loo, you delivered that note from young Mr Tipps to his mother?
Yes, immediately after I got it from you; and I waited to see if there was an answer, but she said there wasnt. It must have contained bad news, I fear, for she turned pale while she read it.
Hm, well, said John, putting on his cap, dont know nothin about what was in it, so its no bizzness o mine.
With a hearty good-evening to all, and a special embrace to Gertie, the engine-driver left his home, accompanied by Bob his hopeful son.
Mr Sharp, said Bob, as they walked along, has bin makin oncommon partikler inquiries among us about some o the porters. I raither think theyre a bad lot.
Not at all, replied his father severely. Theyre no more a bad lot than the drivers, or, for the matter of that, than the clerks or the directors, or the lamp-boys. You ought to be gittin old enough by this time, Bob, to know that every lot o fish in this world, however good, has got a few bad uns among em. As a rule railway directors and railway clerks, and railway porters and railway officials of all sorts are goodmore or lessthe same may be said of banks an insurances, an all sorts of thingsbut, do what ye may, a black sheep or two will git in among em, and, of course, the bigger the consarn, the more numerous the black sheep. Even the clergy aint free from that uniwersal law of natur. But whats Mr Sharp bin inquiring arter?
Ahwot indeed! replied Bob; ow should I know? Mr Sharp aint the man to go about the line with a ticket on his back tellin wot hes arter. By no means. Plice superintendents aint usually given to that; but hes arter somethin partickler.
Well, that aint no bizzness of ours, Bob, so we dont need to trouble our heads about it. Theres nothin like mindin yer own bizzness. Same time, added John after a short pause, thats no reason why, as a sea-farin friend o mine used to say, a man shouldnt keep his weather-eye open, dye see?
Bob intimated that he did see, by winking with the eye that chanced to be next his parent; but further converse between father and son was interrupted at a turn in the road, where they were joined by a stout, broad-shouldered young man, whose green velveteen jacket vest, and trousers bespoke him a railway porter.
Evenin, Sam, said our driver with a friendly nod; goin on night dooty, eh?
Yes, worse luck, replied Sam, thrusting his powerful hands into his pockets.
Why so, Sam, you aint used to mind night dooty?
No more I do, said Sam testily, but my missus is took bad, and theres no one to look after her properlyfor that old ooman we got aint to be trusted. Tis a hard thing to have to go on night dooty when a higher dooty bids me stay at home.
There was a touch of deep feeling in the tone in which the latter part of Sam Natlys remark was uttered. His young wife, to whom he had been only a year married, had fallen into bad health, and latterly the doctors had given him little encouragement to hope for her recovery.
Sam, said John Marrot stopping, Ill go an send a friend, as I knows of, to look after yer wife.
A friend? said Sam; you cant mean any o your own family, John, for you havent got time to go back that length now, and
Well, never mind, Ive got time to go where Im agoin. You run on to the shed, Bob, and tell Garvie that Ill be there in fifteen minutes.
The engine-driver turned off abruptly, and, increasing his pace to a smart walk, soon stood before the door of one of those uncommonly small neat suburban villas which the irrigating influence of the Grand National Trunk Railway had caused to spring up like mushrooms around the noisy, smoky, bustling town of Clatterbyto the unspeakable advantage of that class of gentlefolk who possess extremely limited incomes, but who, nevertheless, prefer fresh air to smoke.
Is your missus at ome? he inquired of the stout elderly woman who answered to his modest summonsfor although John was wont to clatter and bang through the greater part of his daily and nightly career, he was tender of touch and act when out of his usual professional beat.
Yes; do you wish to see her?
I does, my dear. Sorry I avent got a card with me, but if youll just say that its John Marrot, the engine-driver, I dessay thatll do for a free pass.
The elderly woman went off with a smile, but returned quickly with an anxious look, and bade the man follow her. He was ushered into a small and poorly furnished but extremely neat and clean parlour, where sat a thin little old lady in an easy-chair, looking very pale.
Evnin, maam, said John, bowing and looking rougher and bigger than usual in such a small apartment.
Youyoudont bring bad news, I hope!my son Joseph
Oh no, Mrs Tipps, not by no means, said Marrot, hasting to relieve the timid old ladys feelings, Mr Joseph is all rightnothing wotiver wrong with himnor likely to be, maam. Leastwise he wos all right wen I seed im last.
And when might that be? asked the timid old lady with a sigh of relief as she clasped her hands tightly together.
Wy, let me see, said John, touching his forehead, it was yesterday evenin wen I came up with the northern express.
But many accidents might have happened since yesterday evening, said Mrs Tipps, still in an anxious tone.
Thats true, maam. All the engines on the Grand Trunk from the Pentland Firth to the Channel might have busted their bilers since that timebut it aint likely, replied John, with a bland smile.
Andand what was my son doing when you passed him? Did you speak to him?
Speak to him! Bless your heart, maam, said John, with another benignant smile, I went past Langrye station at sixty mile an hour, so we hadnt much chance to speak to each other. It would have been as much as we could have managed, if wed tried it, to exchange winks.
Dreadful! exclaimed Mrs Tipps in a low tone. Is that the usual rate of travelling on your railway?
Oh dear no, maam. Its only my express train as goes at that rate. Other expresses run between forty and fifty miles, an ornary trains average about thirty miles an hourgoods, they go at about twenty, more or less; but they varies a good deal. The train I drives is about the fastest in the kingdom, wich is pretty much the same as sayin its the fastest in the world, maam. Sometimes Im obleeged to go as high as nigh seventy miles an hour to make up time.
The fastest mail-coaches in my young days, said Mrs Tipps, used to go at the rate of ten miles an hour, I believe.
Pretty much so, said John. They did manage a mile or two more, Im told, but that was their average of crawlin with full steam on.
And you sometimes drive at sixty or seventy miles an hour?
Yes, maam.