'I wish we were going all the way with you,' said Peterkin, with a sigh made up of satisfaction, as he wriggled his substantial little person into the arm-chair first-cla.s.s seat, and of regret.

'I'll be all right,' said Margaret, 'once I am in the Hill Horton railway.'

For some things I wished too that we were going all the way with her, but for others I couldn't help feeling that I should be very glad to be safe home again and the adventure well over.

'By the day after to-morrow,' I thought, 'there will be no more reason for worrying, if Margaret keeps her promise of writing to us.'

I had made her promise this, and given her an envelope with our address on. For otherwise, you see, we should not have heard how she had got on, as no one but the parrot knew that she had ever seen us or spoken to us.

Then the train moved slowly out of the station, and Margaret's eyes sparkled with triumph. And we felt the infection of her high spirits.

After all, we were only children, and we laughed and joked about the witch, and the fright her new nurse would be in, and how the parrot would enjoy it all, of which we felt quite sure.

We were very merry all the way to the Junction. It was only about a quarter-of-an-hour off, and just before we got there the guard looked at our tickets.

'Change at the Junction,' he said, when he caught sight of the 'Hill Horton,' on Margaret's.

'Of course, we know that, thank you,' she said, rather pertly perhaps, but it sounded so funny that Pete and I burst out laughing again. I suppose we were all really very excited, but the guard laughed too.

'How long will there be to wait for the Hill Horton train?' I had the sense to ask.

'Ten minutes, at least,' he replied, glancing at his watch, the way guards nearly always do.

I was glad he did not say longer, for the sooner Peterkin and I caught a train home again, after seeing Margaret off, the better. And I knew there were sure to be several in the course of the afternoon.

As soon as we stopped we got out--red bundle and all. I did not see our guard again, he was somewhere at the other end; but I got hold of another, not so good-natured, however, and rather in a hurry.

'Which is the train for Hill Horton? Is it in yet?' I asked.

He must have thought, so I explained it to myself afterwards, that we had just come in to the station, and were at the beginning of our journey.

'Hill Horton,' I _thought_ he said, but, as you will see, my ears must have deceived me, 'all right. Any carriage to the front--further back are for----.' I did not clearly hear--I think it must have been 'Charing Cross,' but I did not care. All that concerned _us_ was 'Hill Horton.'

'Come along,' I called to the two others, who had got a little behind me, lugging the bundle between them, and I led the way, as the man had pointed out.

It seemed a very long train, and as he had said 'to the front,' I thought it best to go pretty close up to the engine. There were two or three first-cla.s.s carriages next to the guard's van, but they were all empty, and I had meant to look out for one with nice-looking people in it for Margaret to travel with. Farther back there were some ladies and children in some first-cla.s.s, but I was afraid of putting her into a wrong carriage.

'I expect you will be alone all the way,' I said to her. 'I suppose there are not very many people going to Hill Horton.'

'Not first-cla.s.s,' said Margaret. 'There are often lots of farmers and village people, I daresay. Nursey said it was very crowded on market days, but I don't know when it is market days. But it is rather funny, Giles, to be getting into the same train again!'

'No,' I replied, 'these carriages will be going to split off from the others that go on to London. The man said it would be all right for Hill Horton at the front. They often separate trains like that. I daresay we shall go a little way out of the station and come back again. You'll see. And he said--the _first_ man, I mean--that we should have at least ten minutes to wait, and we've scarcely been two, so we may as well get in with you for a few minutes.'

'Yes, do,' said Margaret, 'but don't put my package up in the netted place, for fear I couldn't get it down again myself. The trains never stop long at our station.'

So we contented ourselves with leaving the red bundle on the seat beside her. It was lucky, I told her, that the carriage _wasn't_ full, otherwise it would have had to go up in the rack, where it wouldn't have been very firm.

'It is so fat,' said Peterkin, solemnly.

'Something like you,' I said, at which we all laughed again, as if it was something very witty. We were still feeling rather excited, I think, and rather proud--at least I was--of having, so far, got on so well.

But before we had finished laughing, there came a startling surprise.

The train suddenly began to move! We stared at each other. Then I remembered my own words a minute or two ago.

'It's all right,' I said, 'we'll back into the station again in a moment.'

Margaret and Peterkin laughed again, but rather nervously. At least, Margaret's laugh was not quite hearty; though, as for Peterkin, I think he was secretly delighted.

On we went--faster and faster, instead of slower. There was certainly no sign of 'backing.' I put my head out of the window. We were quite clear of the Junction by now, getting every instant more and more into the open country. At last I had to give in.

'We're off, I do believe,' I said. 'There's been some mistake about our waiting ten minutes. We're clear on the way to Hill Horton.'

'_I'm_ very glad,' said Pete. 'I always wanted to come all the way.'

'But perhaps it needn't be all the way,' I said. 'Do you remember, Margaret, how many stations there are between the Junction and yours?'

'Three or four, I think,' she replied.

'Oh well, then,' I said, 'it won't matter. We can get out the first time we stop, and I daresay we shall soon get a train back again, and not be late home after all.'

Margaret's face cleared. She was thoughtful enough not to want us to get into trouble through helping her.

'We shall be stopping soon, I think,' she said, 'for this seems a fast train.'

But to me her words brought no satisfaction. For it did indeed seem a fast train, and a much more horrible idea than the one of our going all the way to Hill Horton suddenly sprang into my mind--

Were we in the Hill Horton train at all?

CHAPTER IX

IN A FOG

I WAITED a minute or two before I said anything to the others. They went on laughing and joking, and I kept looking out of the window. At last I turned round, and then Margaret started a little.

'What's the matter, Giles?' she said. 'You're quite white and funny looking.'

And Peterkin stared at me too.

'It's--'I began, and then I felt as if I really couldn't go on; but I had to. 'It's that I am dreadfully afraid,' I said, 'almost quite sure now, that we are in the wrong train. I've seen the names of two stations that we've pa.s.sed without stopping already. Do you remember the names of any between the Junction and Hill Horton, Margaret?'

She shook her head.

'No,' she said, 'but I know we never pa.s.s any without stopping; at least I think so. They are quite little stations, and I've never known the train go as fast as this till after the Junction, when we were in the London train. I've been to London several times with Gran, you see.'

Then it suddenly struck her what I meant.