When you hear that the four children found themselves at Waterloo Station quite un-taken-care-of, and with no one to meet them, it may make you think that their parents were neither kind nor careful. But if you think this you will be wrong. The fact is, mother arranged with Aunt Emma that she was to meet the children at Waterloo when they went back from their Christmas holiday at Lyndhurst. The train was fixed, but not the day. Then mother wrote to Aunt Emma, giving her careful instructions about the day and the hour, and about luggage and cabs and things, and gave the letter to Robert to post. But the hounds happened to meet near Rufus's Stone that morning, and, what is more, on the way to the meet they met Robert, and Robert met them, and instantly forgot all about posting Aunt Emma's letter, and never thought of it again until he and the others had wandered three times up and down the platform at Waterloo--which makes twenty-four trips in all--and had bumped up against old gentlemen, and stared in the faces of ladies, and been shoved by people in a hurry, and "by-your-leaved" by porters with trucks, and were quite sure that Aunt Emma was not there. Then suddenly the true truth of what he had forgotten to do came home to Robert, and he said "Oh, crikey!" and stood still with his mouth open, and let a porter with a Gladstone bag in each hand and a bundle of umbrellas under one arm blunder heavily into him, and never so much as said "Where are you shoving to now?" or "Look out where you're going, can't you?" The heavier bag smote him at the knee, and he staggered, but he said nothing. When the others understood what was the matter I think they told Robert what they thought of him. "We must take the train to Croydon," said Anthea, "and find Aunt Emma." "Yes," said Cyril, "and precious pleased those Jevonses would be to see us and our traps." Aunt Emma, indeed, was staying with some Jevonses--very prim ladies. They were middle-aged and wore very smart blouses, and they were fond of _matinées_ and shopping, and they did not care about children. "I know mother would be pleased to see us if we went back," said Jane. "Yes, she would; but she'd think it was not right to show she was pleased, because it's Bob's fault we're not met. Don't I know the sort of thing?" said Cyril. "Besides, we've no tin, except my tip grandfather gave me, and I'm not going to blue that because Robert's gone and made an ass of himself. No; we've enough among us for a growler, but not enough for tickets to the New Forest. We must just go home. They won't be so savage when they find we've really got home all right. You know auntie was only going to take us home in a cab." "I believe we ought to go to Croydon," Anthea insisted. "Aunt Emma would be out, to a dead cert," said Robert. "Those Jevonses go to the theatre every afternoon, I believe. Besides, there's the Phoenix at home, _and_ the carpet. I votes we call a four-wheeled cabman."