arrived, stopped, and started again; other trains whistled as they dashed past without stopping; porters hurried hither and thither with piles of luggage, and still a small dark-haired boy sat on the bench in the waiting-room, unconscious of all that was happening.

Presently Jimmy awoke. He opened his eyes and began to rub them, thinking at first that the bell which he heard was rung to call the boys at Miss Lawson's school. But when he looked around him, he soon discovered that he was not in the school dormitory, and then as he became more wide-awake he remembered where he really was and began to fear that he had slept too long and missed his train. Starting up in a hurry, Jimmy ran out to the platform, and there to his great joy he saw a train standing exactly where he had left one. A good many people were waiting by the doors, but Jimmy looked in vain for the two ladies and the old gentleman.

'Take your seats!' cried a porter, 'just going on;' so that, afraid of being left behind, Jimmy jumped into a carriage close at hand. It happened to be empty, but he did not mind that, and he was only just in time, for the next minute a whistle blew and the train began to move. It had not long started, before he noticed that the afternoon had become much darker; he did not possess a watch, but as far as he could tell it must be very nearly tea-time. However, he supposed that it could not be long now before he arrived at Chesterham, and he began to look forward more eagerly than ever to seeing his father and mother on the platform.

The train went on, stopping at several stations, and at each one Jimmy looked out at the window and tried to read the name on the lamps. But he felt no fear about going too far, because he knew that the train stopped altogether when it reached Chesterham. It seemed a long time reaching there, however, much longer than he had imagined; but at last it came to a standstill, and, looking through the window, Jimmy saw that many more persons got out than usual. He leaned back in his seat, feeling tired and cold, and waiting for the train to go on again, when presently a porter stopped at the window.

'All change here!' he said.

'But I don't want to change,' answered Jimmy. 'This isn't Chesterham, is it?' for he had read the name of Barstead on one of the lamps.

'Chesterham!' cried the porter, 'I should say not. Chesterham is fifty miles away on another line. This is Barstead. And if you don't want to stay all night on the siding the best thing you can do is to get out.'

CHAPTER VII

JIMMY IS TAKEN INTO CUSTODY

Jimmy stared at the porter in great astonishment. His eyes and his mouth were opened very widely, and he felt extremely frightened. He rose from the seat and stepped out on to the dark platform.

'I want to go to Chesterham,' he said.

'Well, you can't go to Chesterham to-night,' was the answer. 'Where's your ticket?'

Jimmy felt in his pocket for his purse, and opening it took out his ticket.

'You'd better come to speak to the station-master,' said the porter; and Jimmy, feeling more frightened than ever, followed him to a small room, where a tall red-bearded man sat writing at a table which seemed to be covered all over with papers. When Jimmy entered with the porter the station-master rose and stood with his back to the fire, whilst the porter began to explain.

'You can't get to Chesterham without going back to Meresleigh,' said the station-master presently. 'Chesterham is on a different line, and there is no train to-night.'

'Then what am I to do?' asked Jimmy, turning very pale.

'That's just what I should like to know!' was the answer. 'But you can't get back to Meresleigh until to-morrow morning, that's certain.'

'But where shall I sleep?' cried Jimmy.

'How was it you got out of the train at Meresleigh?' asked the station-master.

'You see,' faltered Jimmy nervously, 'there was an accident to the engine and we all got out.'

'Then why didn't you get in again?'

'I did,' said Jimmy.

'You didn't get into the right train,' answered the station-master, 'or you wouldn't be here. Tell me just what you did, now.'

'Why,' Jimmy explained, 'I went into the waiting-room to eat my sandwiches and then I fell asleep.'

'How long were you asleep?'

'I don't know. It didn't seem very long. When I woke I went on to the platform and saw a train waiting just in the same place, and I thought it was the same train.'

'Well, it wasn't,' said the station-master. 'Whilst you were asleep the Chesterham train must have started, and the train you got into was the Barstead train, which is more than an hour later. A nice mistake you've made.'

At this Jimmy put his sleeve to his face and began to cry. He really couldn't help it, he felt very tired, very cold, very miserable, and very frightened. He could not imagine what would happen to him, where he should spend the night, or how he should ever reach Chesterham. He thought of his father and mother going to meet the train and finding no Jimmy there, and he felt far more miserable than he had ever felt in his life before.

The station-master began to ask him questions, and amongst others where his friends in Chesterham lived. Jimmy did not know the exact address, but he told the station-master his aunt's name, and he said that would most likely be enough for a telegram.

'I shall send a telegram at once to say you're all safe here,' he said; 'and then to-morrow morning we must send you on.'

'But how about to-night?' cried Jimmy. 'Where am I to sleep?'

'I must think about that,' was the answer; and then there was a good deal of noise as if another train had arrived, and the station-master left his room in a great hurry. He was a very busy man and had very little time to look after boys who went to sleep in waiting-rooms and missed their trains. At the same time he did not intend Jimmy to be left without a roof over his head. So he saw the train start again, and then he sent for Coote.

Coote was tall and extremely fat, with an extraordinarily large red face, and small eyes. He was dressed as a policeman, but he did not really belong to the police. He was employed by the railway company to look after persons who did not behave themselves properly, and certainly his appearance was enough to frighten them. But the station-master knew him to be a respectable man, with a wife and children of his own, and a clean cottage about half a mile from the station. So he thought that Coote would be the very man to take charge of Jimmy until the next morning. He explained what had happened, and Coote said he would take the boy home with him.

'I'll see he's well looked after,' he said, 'and I'll bring him in time to catch the 7.30 train to Meresleigh in the morning.'

'You'll find him in my office,' answered the station-master, and to the office Coote went accordingly.

Now, if he had acted sensibly in the matter he would have spared Jimmy a good deal of unpleasantness, and Jimmy's father and mother much anxiety. But Coote was fond of what he called a 'joke,' and instead of telling the boy that he was going to take him home and give him a bed and some supper, he opened the office-door, put his great red face into the room, and stared hard at Jimmy. Jimmy was already so much upset that very little was required to frighten him still more. When he saw the face, with a policeman's helmet above it, he drew back farther against the wall.

'None o' your nonsense now, you just come along with me!' cried Coote, speaking in a very deep voice, and looking very fierce.

'I—I don't want to come,' answered Jimmy.

'Never mind what you want,' said Coote, 'you just come along with me.'

'Where—where to?' asked Jimmy.

'Ah, you'll see where to,' was the answer. 'Come along now. No nonsense.'

Very unwillingly Jimmy accompanied Coote along the platform and out into the street. It was