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She
pointed
to
a
little
brass
wheel
that
he
had
turned
as
he
spoke
.
"
That
's
the
injector
.
"
"
In
--
what
?
"
"
Injector
to
fill
up
the
boiler
.
"
"
Oh
,
"
said
Bobbie
,
mentally
registering
the
fact
to
tell
the
others
;
"
that
IS
interesting
.
"
"
This
'
ere
's
the
automatic
brake
,
"
Bill
went
on
,
flattered
by
her
enthusiasm
.
"
You
just
move
this
'
ere
little
handle
--
do
it
with
one
finger
,
you
can
--
and
the
train
jolly
soon
stops
.
That
's
what
they
call
the
Power
of
Science
in
the
newspapers
.
"
He
showed
her
two
little
dials
,
like
clock
faces
,
and
told
her
how
one
showed
how
much
steam
was
going
,
and
the
other
showed
if
the
brake
was
working
properly
.
By
the
time
she
had
seen
him
shut
off
steam
with
a
big
shining
steel
handle
,
Bobbie
knew
more
about
the
inside
working
of
an
engine
than
she
had
ever
thought
there
was
to
know
,
and
Jim
had
promised
that
his
second
cousin
's
wife
's
brother
should
solder
the
toy
engine
,
or
Jim
would
know
the
reason
why
.
Besides
all
the
knowledge
she
had
gained
Bobbie
felt
that
she
and
Bill
and
Jim
were
now
friends
for
life
,
and
that
they
had
wholly
and
forever
forgiven
her
for
stumbling
uninvited
among
the
sacred
coals
of
their
tender
.
At
Stacklepoole
Junction
she
parted
from
them
with
warm
expressions
of
mutual
regard
.
They
handed
her
over
to
the
guard
of
a
returning
train
--
a
friend
of
theirs
--
and
she
had
the
joy
of
knowing
what
guards
do
in
their
secret
fastnesses
,
and
understood
how
,
when
you
pull
the
communication
cord
in
railway
carriages
,
a
wheel
goes
round
under
the
guard
's
nose
and
a
loud
bell
rings
in
his
ears
.
She
asked
the
guard
why
his
van
smelt
so
fishy
,
and
learned
that
he
had
to
carry
a
lot
of
fish
every
day
,
and
that
the
wetness
in
the
hollows
of
the
corrugated
floor
had
all
drained
out
of
boxes
full
of
plaice
and
cod
and
mackerel
and
soles
and
smelts
.
