And yet—when that was done, and the straps all fastened up, and Ronald had run down to the surgery to get a clean white label, and had printed ‘Armitage, Victoria, London,’ on it in his best printing, and Vivian had tied it on, while little Dorothy watched the proceedings in silent admiration—there remained nearly four hours before the time came for an early lunch and the drive to the station.
The hours passed somehow, however, and at last the carriage was brought round, and the portmanteau was tucked away beside Black on the box, while father packed the boys inside, with mother and Dorothy, who were going to see them off. Just at the last moment he slipped two little paper packets into their hands, telling them not to open them until they were in the train. Then he shut the carriage door and nodded to Black, and they had actually started at last.
They felt quite important at the quiet little station, when mother went to get the tickets, and old Timms the porter came up, and, touching his cap, asked ‘Where for, sir?’ and Ronald answered, ‘London, Victoria,’ in a careless tone as if going to London were quite an everyday event. Old Timms noticed the tone, and his eyes twinkled, but he only touched his cap again, and said, ‘Very good, sir,’ and put the portmanteau beside the other luggage which was waiting ready for the London train.
Perhaps their hearts failed them a little, although they both would have scorned the suggestion, as the train came roaring round the curve, and mother gave them a last kiss, saying, ‘Give my love to Aunt Dora, and all the others, and enjoy yourselves, and be my own good boys; and, Vivian, remember our talk yesterday.’ Then the guard hustled them into a carriage, the door banged, and the train moved on.
Now they had time to think about the little packets which their father had given them, and on opening them each was found to contain two half-crowns. This discovery quite raised their spirits again, for what may not be bought for five shillings in the wonderful shops in London!
It was a foggy afternoon, and Victoria Station looked very big, and dark, and bustling, as the train steamed into it; and as a porter threw open the door of their carriage, and they stepped on to the platform, the boys felt somewhat bewildered with the crowd of people who were running about in all directions.
‘Supposing Aunt Dora has mistaken the train? I don’t see her anywhere,’ said Ronald, who was always rather anxious-minded.
‘Oh, we’ll just take a cab,’ said Vivian confidently; ‘that’s the way people do, and give the man the address—“Eversley, Hampstead Heath.” He will take us there all right. Hadn’t we better go and look after our portmanteau? The porters are taking all the luggage out of that van. Some one may steal ours.’
‘No; no one would dare do that; but, all the same, we had better see to it.—Here, porter!’