At length the day of departure arrived. Too full of importance and great expectations to manifest a proper amount of sorrow at leaving his father and sister, who felt very reluctant, indeed, to part with him, Master Bert took his place in the cab and drove up to the railway station. Hardly had he entered it than he made a dash for the train, climbed up on the rear platform with the agility of a monkey, much to the amusement of the conductor, whose proffer of assistance he entirely ignored; and when Mr. Lloyd entered the train a minute later, he found his enterprising son seated comfortably upon a central seat, and evidently quite ready for the train to start.
"Would you go away without saying good-bye to your father and to Mary?" asked Mr. Lloyd, in a deeply reproachful tone.
Bert blushed violently on being thus reminded of his apparent selfishness and, with the threat of a tear in his eye, was about to make some sort of a defence, when his father put him all right again by saying brightly:
"Never mind, my boy. It isn't every day you go off on a hundred-and-fifty-miles' journey. Mary and I will forgive you for forgetting us this time, won't we, Mary?"
The lunch basket, the wraps, and their other belongings were placed on the seat, the engine whistled, "all aboard," the bell rang, the conductor shouted, affectionate farewells were hastily exchanged, and presently the train rolled noisily out of the dark station into the bright sunshine; and Bert, leaning from the window, caught a last glimpse of his father and sister as they stood waving the handkerchiefs which one of them, at least, could not refrain from putting to another use, as the last car swept round the turn and vanished.
But Bert was in no mood for tears. In fact, he never felt less like anything of the kind. He felt much more disposed to shout aloud for very joy, and probably would have done so, but for the restraining influence exercised by the presence of the other passengers, of whom there were a good many in the carriage. As it was, he gave vent to his excited feelings by being as restless as a mosquito, and asking his mother as many questions as his active brain could invent.
"You'll be tired out by mid-day, Bert, if you go on at this rate," said his mother, in gentle warning.
"Oh, no, I won't, mother; I won't get tired. See! What's that funny big thing with the long legs in that field?"
"That's a frame for a hay stack, I think. You'll see plenty of those at grandfather's."
"And what's that queer thing with arms sticking out from that building?"