But Dad stayed. They all of them stayed. They all of them waved and waved and waved when the train started off as though they would never, never stop waving. “I’m goin’ on wavin’,” shouted Jack, the twin, running along beside the moving train, “till you come back!” “Go straight back to Auntie,” said Betty in a very severe tone. She was dreadfully sorry that her last words had to be so strict-sounding; but--suppose he got under the wheels! And there was Auntie, already fully occupied with holding on to Jan and baby. And Dad was just turning to race up the station stairs--oh yes, Betty was glad to see that. She left the window as the train entered the tunnel and sat down. It was then that desolation seized her. Never, never, never--so far back as she remembered--had she felt so alone before! Even at night-time Jan’s small bed was tucked close to her own, and at night-time Betty was always so tired that she fell fast asleep and so couldn’t possibly feel solitary. But now---- “Oh, why ever did I come?” suddenly said Betty. “Oh, why ever did I think I’d like it? Oh dear, oh, isn’t it dreadful of me! Oh, I wish I could turn round and go back. I don’t believe that I told Auntie about those early summer woollies of Jan’s. And suppose she catches cold. And Dad simply hates every kind of cocoa except Rowntree’s, and I’ve never told her _that_; and we’re just at the end of the tin. _Oh!_” Quite suddenly Betty began to cry. “Oh dear,” she sobbed. “Oh, I do, _do_ hope they’re not crying too!” It was the thought of their possible tears that made her forget to shed any more of her own. Her fingers groping for a handkerchief came across a stubby pencil with which she had been drawing pictures for baby. In her case there was sure to be paper; she would write them all a letter. Betty was smiling as she began “Dear Everybody” at the top of the page, for she could almost see the twins racing to the postman’s ring, and could almost hear their shouts. She felt at that moment almost as much back at home as though she was really there. “Dear Everybody...” began Betty. The letter took a long time; it took away all the marks of tears, too, from Betty’s face. By the time the junction was reached, and the train came to a full stop, she was looking quite cheery and eager again. “No, I’m not getting out. I was wondering, though, if I could post this letter,” she began to a passing porter, just as two Benedick girls came along. “Letter, eh? We’ll do it for you!” said one of them. “See, there’s the red pillar. No, no. Don’t fuss; there’s plenty of time. New girl, are you? Left something special at home?” The stranger took the envelope from Betty’s hand.