he electric-bell in the guard's van suddenly began to tinkle. Something was wrong with one of the passengers. The train slackened speed, and then stopped altogether.
One by one the passengers' heads appeared at the windows. Such a variety of heads, too! Some wrapped in handkerchiefs, some with hats all awry, some wearing neither hat nor cap, and all looking ruffled and rubbed up, as if a minute before their owners had been snoring in peaceful forgetfulness that they were not in their own quiet beds at home.
This, very likely, was the case, for it was five o'clock on a warm summer morning, and the train from the North had been tearing along with its burden of drowsy passengers ever since nine o'clock the evening before.
Was it any wonder that this abrupt stoppage—here, where there was not even a platform in sight—somewhat disturbed and irritated the travellers?
"A most irregular proceeding!" cried one indignant gentleman who, in his anxiety to see what was wrong, had pulled the blue window-blind over his bald head.
"It's always the way," cried another fretfully. "Just my luck! Delaying the train, just when I particularly wished to be in town early."
"Perhaps the train is on fire! Oh, guard! guard!" screamed a frightened old lady a few doors further down. "Help me out! This is dreadful!"
But the guard, a kindly, warm-hearted Scotchman, was far too busy to attend to any one but the poor heart-broken young mother, who was clinging to him in her first paroxysm of grief and fear.
"Noo! noo!" he was saying. "Dinna be greeting sae sairly, mem! We'll all be doing our best to find the bit bairn. Jack has gone to tak' a look along the line. But the train's o'erdue, and we maun get to yonder station before we can have asseestance."