Of course it wasn’t hats. It was, most amazingly, a crystal cave, very oddly shaped like a railway station. It seemed to be lighted by stars, which is, of course, unusual in a booking office, and over the station clock was a full moon. The clock had no figures, only Now in shining letters all round it, twelve times, and the Nows touched, so the clock was bound to be always right. How different from the clock you go to school by!
[p226]
A porter in white satin hurried forward to take Amabel’s luggage. Her luggage was the A.B.C. which she still held in her hand.
‘Lots of time, Miss,’ he said, grinning in a most friendly way, ‘I am glad you’re going. You will enjoy yourself! What a nice little girl you are!’
This was cheering. Amabel smiled.
At the pigeon-hole that tickets come out of, another person, also in white satin, was ready with a mother-of-pearl ticket, round, like a card counter.
‘Here you are, Miss,’ he said with the kindest smile, ‘price nothing, and refreshments free all the way. It’s a pleasure,’ he added, ‘to issue a ticket to a nice little lady like you.’ The train was entirely of crystal, too, and the cushions were of white satin. There were little buttons such as you have for electric bells, and on them ‘Whatyouwantoeat,’ ‘Whatyouwantodrink,’ ‘Whatyouwantoread,’ in silver letters.
Amabel pressed all the buttons at once, and instantly felt obliged to blink. The blink over, she saw on the cushion by her side a silver tray with vanilla ice, boiled chicken and white sauce, almonds (blanched), peppermint creams, and mashed potatoes, and a long glass of lemonade—beside the tray was a book. It was [p227 Mrs. Ewing’s Bad-tempered Family, and it was bound in white vellum.
There is nothing more luxurious than eating while you read—unless it be reading while you eat. Amabel did both: they are not the same thing, as you will see if you think the matter over.
And just as the last thrill of the last spoonful of ice died away, and the last full stop of the Bad-tempered Family met Amabel’s eye, the train stopped, and hundreds of railway officials in white velvet shouted, ‘Whereyouwantogoto! Get out!’
A velvety porter, who was somehow like a silkworm as well as like a wedding handkerchief sachet, opened the door.