“Take our love to Father!” The old gentleman waved from his first-class carriage window. Quite violently he waved. And there was nothing odd in that, for he always had waved. But what was really remarkable was that from every window handkerchiefs fluttered, newspapers signalled, hands waved wildly. The train swept by with a rustle and roar, the little pebbles jumped and danced under it as it passed, and the children were left looking at each other. “Well!” said Peter. “WELL!” said Bobbie. “_WELL!_” said Phyllis. “Whatever on earth does that mean?” asked Peter, but he did not expect any answer. “_I_ don't know,” said Bobbie. “Perhaps the old gentleman told the people at his station to look out for us and wave. He knew we should like it!” Now, curiously enough, this was just what had happened. The old gentleman, who was very well known and respected at his particular station, had got there early that morning, and he had waited at the door where the young man stands holding the interesting machine that clips the tickets, and he had said something to every single passenger who passed through that door. And after nodding to what the old gentleman had said--and the nods expressed every shade of surprise, interest, doubt, cheerful pleasure, and grumpy agreement--each passenger had gone on to the platform and read one certain part of his newspaper. And when the passengers got into the train, they had told the other passengers who were already there what the old gentleman had said, and then the other passengers had also looked at their newspapers and seemed very astonished and, mostly, pleased. Then, when the train passed the fence where the three children were, newspapers and hands and handkerchiefs were waved madly, till all that side of the train was fluttery with white like the pictures of the King's Coronation in the biograph at Maskelyne and Cook's. To the children it almost seemed as though the train itself was alive, and was at last responding to the love that they had given it so freely and so long. “It is most extraordinarily rum!” said Peter. “Most stronery!” echoed Phyllis. But Bobbie said, “Don't you think the old gentleman's waves seemed more significating than usual?” “No,” said the others. “I do,” said Bobbie. “I thought he was trying to explain something to us with his newspaper.” “Explain what?” asked Peter, not unnaturally. “_I_ don't know,” Bobbie answered, “but I do feel most awfully funny. I feel just exactly as if something was going to happen.” “What is going to happen,” said Peter, “is that Phyllis's stocking is going to come down.” This was but too true. The suspender had given way in the agitation of the waves to the 9.15. Bobbie's handkerchief served as first aid to the injured, and they all went home.