We’re back. See the crowd on the platform! Soon’s the train is unloaded there’s a fresh batch to take out. It’s like that all the time now. Lots of folks keep getting back on again, riding all day. Mr. Atwood doesn’t mind as long as there’s room for the new-comers. Wouldn’t some big railroads enjoy a passenger trade like this? It sure costs plenty for the Atwoods to give everyone these rides, but they’re like that: never satisfied unless they’re doing things to make other people happy--kind of sharing their good fortune with the world at large, you might say. It’s not lost, though: all adds up to good cranberry advertising, and cranberries is what makes Edaville the top-pucker plantation in the world, and this manikin railroad a lucky survivor of a less lucky kind of railroad design. Let’s go into the station. Why! Good afternoon, Mrs. Atwood; where’s the boss--Oh; I see him. [Illustration: (_Atwood Photo_) The Plymouth Locomotive leaving the screenhouse with a supply of berry boxes and a carful of pickers. Harvesting season, during the fall, is a busy time on Mr. Atwood’s estate. ] There’s Mr. Atwood sitting up to the lunch counter with the boys, eating steamed clams. Wonder that man doesn’t turn into a steamed clam. Personally, I’d just as soon have baked chicken. Here: we’ll sit over by the fireplace with those yarnsters, until the clams are gone. I’m tired, anyway. Notice those things more after forty. Is it supper time? In half an hour the _Sunset Special_ will pull out for her curfew run. That’s a pretty train. Sunset seems to show up better out there where there’s plenty of room. We’ll stick right here so’s not to miss it. See that headlight up on the wall? Big’s a boxcar. Came off one of the old Bridgton engines when they changed to electric glims. This one’s oil. Mr. Atwood has lots of relics in here. You’ve no idea what a show he’s got! Only difference between he and Phin Barnum is that Atwood isn’t trying to kid anybody. His is the real McCoy. Yes: ten little railroads all switched into one: the Edaville. Did you ever stop to think why he named it that--_Edaville_? Can’t you guess? Sure, that’s it: his own initials, E.D.A. Pretty cute, eh? Wait ’til I light my pipe ...