"What shall we get first?" he asked.
"I want the engine-room. The locomotive in the home. The boy's own railroad track."
"That's downstairs. But did you really think of an engine? I mean, isn't it rather large and heavy? Why not get a—"
I smacked his head, and we went downstairs.
It was a delightful room. I was introduced to practically the whole of the Great Western Railway's rolling stock.
"Engine, three carriages and a guard's van. That's right. Then I shall want some rails, of course…. SHUT up, will you?" I said angrily, when the attendant was out of hearing.
"It's the extra weight," he sighed. "The reindeer don't like it. And these modern chimneys—you've no idea what a squeeze it is. However—"
"Those are very jolly," I said when I had examined the rails. "I shall want about a mile of them. Threepence ha'penny a foot? Then I shan't want nearly a mile."
I got about thirty feet, and then turned to switches and signals and lamps and things. I bought a lot of those. You never know what emergency might not arise on the nursery floor, and if anything happened for want of a switch or two I should never forgive myself.
Just as we were going away I caught sight of the jolliest little clockwork torpedo boat. I stopped irresolute.