"Could I ride on it, aunty?" asked Bert.
"Anyway, I should think it would run over folks, or trip them up," suggested Edith.
"Come, now, if you will give me 'elbow room,' and not crowd so, I'll tell you everything I saw, and explain it as clearly as possible," said Miss Thornton, smiling at the children's eager curiosity. "One day last year I went to that same store to purchase a bonnet; the place was thronged with customers at every counter; the floor-walkers were shouting, the girl clerks screaming 'C-a-a-sh!' 'Che-ck!' cash-girls and cash-boys with little baskets were running in every direction, calling out their numbers in reply. Such a jostling, crowding, noisy place I was never in."
"Well?" said Harry, with an air of deep interest.
"To-day I was very pleasantly surprised to find it as quiet and orderly as one could wish; just as many customers, to be sure, but none of the dreadful noise and confusion of last year—and all owing to this wonderful little railroad."
"Do tell us all about it, aunty," begged Harry, forgetting he was interrupting.
"Well, I heard a soft humming noise somewhere overhead, and looking up, there were a dozen or more little cars with polished wheels running on tracks that shone like silver. Each car was about eight inches long, just big enough for a couple of fairies to ride in. They were the cutest little things, and ran along their shining roads like magic; no horses, pulleys, nor wires to draw them. Some of them went right to the dépôt without stopping; others stopped at their stations just as the big 'elevated' cars do."
"I've guessed it: they went by steam," shouted Bert, triumphantly.
"No, not by steam," said Aunt Elinor.
"Then they're wound up like my mouse clock," cried Harry.