After the trees, Michael examined the trellis that extended along the top of a stuccoed wall without interruption on either side. This trellis was a curiosity, for if he looked at it very hard, the lozenges of space came out from their frame and moved about in a blur—an odd business presumably inexplicable for evermore like everything else. Beyond the trellis was the railway; and while Michael was looking a signal shot down, a distant roar drew near, and a real train rumbled past which, beheld from Michael’s window, looked like a toy train loaded with dolls, one of whom wore a red tam-o’-shanter. Michael longed to be sitting once again in that moving wonderland and to be looking out of the window, himself wearing just such another red tam-o’-shanter. Beyond the railway was surely a very extraordinary place indeed, with mountains of coal everywhere and black figures roaming about; and beyond this, far far away, was a very low line of houses with a church steeple against an enormous sky. “Dinner-time! Tut-tut,” said Nurse, suddenly bustling into the room to interrupt Stella’s saga and Michael’s growing dread of being left alone in that wilderness beyond the railway lines. “Could I be left there?” he asked. “Left where?” “There.” He pointed to the coal-yard. “Don’t point!” said Nurse. “What is that place?” “The place where coal comes from.” “Could I be left there?” he persisted. “Not unless one of the coalmen came over the wall and carried you off and left you there, which he will do unless you’re a good boy.” Michael caught his breath. “Can coalmen climb?” he asked, choking at the thought. “Climb like kittens,” said Nurse. A new bogey had been created, black and hairy with yellow cat’s eyes and horrid prehensile arms.