“Say! isn’t that just like a girl?” grumbled Joe; but he looked at his sister with some compunction, for he and Roger almost worshipped her. Only, of course, they were boys and the usual boy cannot understand the fluttering terror in the usual girl’s heart when danger threatens. Not that Dorothy was a weakling in any way; she could be courageous for herself. But her fears were always excited when those she loved were in peril. “Why, we were only having fun, Sister,” Roger blurted out. Being considerably younger than his brother he was quicker to be moved by Dorothy’s expression of feeling. “Fun!” she gasped. “Yes,” Joe said sturdily. “It was a great race. And you and Tavia were in that train? We didn’t have an idea, did we, Roger?” “Nop,” said his small brother thoughtlessly. “If we had we wouldn’t have raced _that_ train.” “Now, I want to tell you something!” exclaimed their sister, with a sharper note in her voice. “You’re not to race _any_ train! Understand, boys? Suppose that engine had struck you as you crossed the tracks?” “Oh, it wouldn’t,” Joe said stoutly. “I know the engineer. He’s a friend of mine. He saw I had the ‘right-of-way,’ as they call it. I’d beat him down the hill; so he held up the train.” “Yes—he held up the train,” said Dorothy with a queer little laugh. “He put on brakes because I pulled the emergency cord. You boys would never have crossed ahead of that train if I hadn’t done so.” “Oh, Dorothy!” gasped Joe. “Oh, Sister!” cried Roger. “Tavia and I almost had heart disease,” the young woman told them seriously. “Engineers do not watch boys on country roads when they are guiding a great express train. It is a serious matter to control a train and to have the destinies of the passengers in one’s hands. The engineer is looking ahead—watching the rails and the roadbed. Remember that, boys.” “I’d like to be an engineer!” sighed Roger, his eyes big with longing. “Pooh!” Joe said. “It’s more fun to drive an automobile—like this new one Ned and Nat have. You don’t have to stay on the tracks, you know.” “Nobody but cautious people can learn to drive automobiles,” said Dorothy, seriously. “I’m big enough,” stated Joe, with conviction. “You may be. But you’re not careful enough,” his sister told him. “Your racing our train to-day showed that. Now, I won’t tell father or auntie, for I do not wish to worry them. But you must promise me not to ride down that hill in your little wagon any more or enter into any such reckless sports.” “Oh, we won’t, of course, if you say not, Dorothy,” sniffed Joe. “But you must remember we’re boys and boys have got to take chances. Even father says that.” “Yes. When you are grown. You may be placed in situations where your courage will be tested. But, goodness me!” finished Dorothy Dale. “Don’t scare us to death, boys. And now see what I bought you in New York.”