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They
walked
along
the
edge
of
the
line
,
and
heard
the
telegraph
wires
humming
over
their
heads
.
When
you
are
in
the
train
,
it
seems
such
a
little
way
between
post
and
post
,
and
one
after
another
the
posts
seem
to
catch
up
the
wires
almost
more
quickly
than
you
can
count
them
.
But
when
you
have
to
walk
,
the
posts
seem
few
and
far
between
.
But
the
children
got
to
the
station
at
last
.
Never
before
had
any
of
them
been
at
a
station
,
except
for
the
purpose
of
catching
trains
--
or
perhaps
waiting
for
them
--
and
always
with
grown-ups
in
attendance
,
grown-ups
who
were
not
themselves
interested
in
stations
,
except
as
places
from
which
they
wished
to
get
away
.
Never
before
had
they
passed
close
enough
to
a
signal-box
to
be
able
to
notice
the
wires
,
and
to
hear
the
mysterious
'
ping
,
ping
,
'
followed
by
the
strong
,
firm
clicking
of
machinery
.
The
very
sleepers
on
which
the
rails
lay
were
a
delightful
path
to
travel
by
--
just
far
enough
apart
to
serve
as
the
stepping-stones
in
a
game
of
foaming
torrents
hastily
organised
by
Bobbie
.
Then
to
arrive
at
the
station
,
not
through
the
booking
office
,
but
in
a
freebooting
sort
of
way
by
the
sloping
end
of
the
platform
.
This
in
itself
was
joy
.
Joy
,
too
,
it
was
to
peep
into
the
porters
'
room
,
where
the
lamps
are
,
and
the
Railway
almanac
on
the
wall
,
and
one
porter
half
asleep
behind
a
paper
.
There
were
a
great
many
crossing
lines
at
the
station
;
some
of
them
just
ran
into
a
yard
and
stopped
short
,
as
though
they
were
tired
of
business
and
meant
to
retire
for
good
.
Trucks
stood
on
the
rails
here
,
and
on
one
side
was
a
great
heap
of
coal
--
not
a
loose
heap
,
such
as
you
see
in
your
coal
cellar
,
but
a
sort
of
solid
building
of
coals
with
large
square
blocks
of
coal
outside
used
just
as
though
they
were
bricks
,
and
built
up
till
the
heap
looked
like
the
picture
of
the
Cities
of
the
Plain
in
'
Bible
Stories
for
Infants
.
'
There
was
a
line
of
whitewash
near
the
top
of
the
coaly
wall
.
When
presently
the
Porter
lounged
out
of
his
room
at
the
twice-repeated
tingling
thrill
of
a
gong
over
the
station
door
,
Peter
said
,
"
How
do
you
do
?
"
in
his
best
manner
,
and
hastened
to
ask
what
the
white
mark
was
on
the
coal
for
.
"
To
mark
how
much
coal
there
be
,
"
said
the
Porter
,
"
so
as
we
'll
know
if
anyone
nicks
it
.
