The Iron Horse | Page 5

went, like a sensible woman, to see that her alarmed domestic was all
right. While she was away John went to the crib and kissed the rosy
cheek of his sleeping boy. Then he bent over the bed with the white
dimity curtains to Miss Gertie's forehead, for which purpose he had to
remove a mass of curly hair with his big brown hand.
"Bless you, my darling," he said in silent speech, "you came near bein'
fatherless this night--nearer than you ever was before." He kissed her
again tenderly, and a fervent "thank the Lord!" rose from his heart to
heaven.
In less than half-an-hour after this the engine-driver's family sank into
profound repose, serenaded by the music of a mineral train from the
black country, which rushed laboriously past their dwelling like an
over-weighted thunderbolt.
CHAPTER TWO.
THE DRIVER VISITS A LITTLE ELDERLY GENTLEWOMAN
AND PREPARES THE IRON HORSE FOR ACTION.
Next day John Marrot spent the brief period of repose accorded by the
doctor to his leg in romping about the house with the baby in his arms.
Being a large man, accustomed to much elbow-room and rapid motion,
and the house being small, John may be said to have been a dangerous
character in the family on such occasions. Apart from baby, no elephant

was ever more sluggish in his motions; but when
coupled--professionally speaking--to his own tender infant, John knew
no bounds, his wife knew no rest and his baby knew no higher earthly
bliss.
Sometimes it was on his shoulder, sometimes on his head and often on
his foot, riding with railway speed to "Banbury Cross." Again it was on
its back in the crib or on the bed being tickled into fits of laughter,
which bid fair at times to merge into fits of convulsion, to the horror of
little Gertie, who came in for a large share of that delightful holiday's
enjoyment, but whose spirit was frequently harrowed with alarm at the
riotous conduct of her invalid father. In his glee the man might have
been compared to a locomotive with a bad driver, who was constantly
shutting off the steam and clapping on the brakes too soon or too late,
thus either falling short of or overshooting his mark. What between the
door and the dresser, the fire, the crib, the window, and the furniture,
John showed himself a dreadfully bad pilot and was constantly running
into or backing out of difficulties. At last towards the afternoon of that
day, while performing a furious charge round the room with baby on
his head, he overturned the wash-tub, which filled the baby with
delirious joy, and Gertie with pleasurable alarm.
As for Mrs Marrot, she was too happy to have her husband at home for
a whole day to care much about trifles, nevertheless she felt it her duty
to reprove him, lest the children should learn a bad lesson.
"There now, John, I knew you'd do it at last. You're much too violent,
and you shouldn't ought to risk the baby's neck in that way. Such a
mess! How can you expect me to keep things tidy if you go on so?"
John was very penitent. He did not reply at first, but putting baby into
the crib--where it instantly drowned with a great yell the shriek of a
passing train--he went down on his knees and began to "swab" up the
water with a jack-towel. Loo ran laughingly from the corner where she
had been sewing, and insisted on doing it for him.
"You'll hurt your leg, father, if you bend it so, and I'm sure it must be
swelled and pained enough already with so much romping."

"Not a bit, Loo," objected John. "It was me as caused the mess, an'
justice requires that I should swab it up. There, go sew that sentiment
into a sampler an' hang it up over yer bed."
But Loo would not give in. While they were still engaged in the
controversy the door opened, and young Bob Marrot stood before them
with his eyes wide open and his hair straight up on end, as if he had
recently seen a ghost. This aspect, however, was no sign of alarm,
being his normal condition.
"Ha! seems to me, somehow, that somebody's bin up to somethin'."
"Right Bob," replied his father, rising from his knees and throwing the
jack-towel at him.
The lad easily evaded the shot, being well accustomed to elude much
more deadly missiles, and, picking up the towel, quietly set to work to
perform the duty in dispute.
"You're wanted," he said, looking up at his father while he wrung the
towel over a tin basin.
"Eh! Where?"
"Up at the shed."
"I'm on sick leave," said John.
"Can't help that. The 6:30