The Old Gentleman

For knowledge

Peter, Park and Robert live in a house near a railway station with their mother. One day, the children wave at a train. An old gentleman returns the gesture and it becomes an everyday affair. Read the story to know more what happens when the children's mother fall ill.

Story begins

The children could not keep away from the railways. They began to know the hours when certain trains passed and they gave names to them. The 9:15 Up was called the Green Dragon.

The 10:7 Down was the Worm of Wantley. The Midnight Town Express, whose shrieking rush woke them from their dreams, was the Fearsome Fly-by-night.

It was by the Green Dragon that old gentleman travelled. He was a very nice-looking old gentleman.

He had a fresh-coloured, clean-shaven face and white hair. Of course the children didn't see all this at first. In fact the first thing they noticed about the old gentleman was his hand.

One morning as they sat on the fence, waiting for the Green Dragon, Park said, "The Green Dragon's going where Father is."

"I say," Park suggested, "let's all wave to the Green Dragon as it goes by."

So when the Green Dragon tore shrieking out of the mouth of its dark lair, which was the tunnel, all three children stood behind the railing and waved their pocket handkerchiefs.

And out of a first-class carriage a hand waved back. It was the old gentleman's hand.

After this it became a custom for waves to be exchanged between the children and the 9:15.

And the children liked to think that perhaps the old gentleman knew Father and would meet him and tell him how his three children stood on a rail far away in the green and waved their love to him every morning, wet or fine.

One day, Mother had to stay in bed because her head ached so. Her hands were burning hot and she would not eat anything and her throat was very sore.

Peter was sent to the house in the village that had three laburnum trees by the gate and on the gate a brass plate with W W Forrest, MD, on it.

WW Forrest, MD, came at once.

When he had seen Mother, he said it was influenza.

"Now, dear child," he said in the hall to Robert, "I suppose you'll want to be the head nurse."

Of course," said she.

"Well, then, I'll send down some medicine. Keep up a good fire.

Have some strong tea made ready to give her as soon as the fever goes down. She can have grapes, soda water and milk and you'd better get in some soup."

She asked him to write it all down and he did.

When Robert showed Mother the list he had written, Mother laughed. It was a laugh, Robert decided, though it was rather odd and feeble.

"Nonsense,” said Mother, lying in bed with eyes as bright as beads.

"I can't afford all that. I should like some more water now, love. And will you get a basin and sponge my hands?"

Robert obeyed. When she had done everything she could to make Mother less uncomfortable, she went down to the others. Her cheeks were very red, her lips set tight and her eyes almost as bright as Mother's.

She told them what the doctor had said and what Mother had said.

"And now," said she, when she had told all, "there's no one but us to do anything and we've got to do it."

When the 9:15 came out of the tunnel that morning, the old gentleman in the first-class carriage put down his newspaper and got ready to wave his hand to the three children by the fence. But this morning there were not three. There was only one. And that was Peter.

Peter was pointing to something.

And what he was pointing at was a large white sheet nailed against the fence. On the sheet there were thick black letters more than a foot long.

And this is what the old gentleman and several other people in the train read in the large black letters on the white sheet.

LOOK OUT AT THE STATION.

A good many people did look out at the station and were disappointed, for they saw nothing unusual. The old gentleman looked out too and at first he too saw nothing more unusual than the gravelled platform and the sunshine and the wallflowers and forget-me-nots in the station borders.

It was only just as the train was beginning to puff and pull itself together to start again that he saw Park. She was quite out of breath with running.

"Oh," she said, "I thought I'd missed you. Here, take it."

She thrust a warm, damp letter into his hand as the train moved.

He leaned back in his corner and opened the letter. This is what he read. Dear Mr We-do-not-know-your-name, Mother is ill and the doctor says to give her the things at the end of the letter, but she says she can't afford it.

We do not know anybody here but you because Father is away and we do not know his address. Father will pay you.

We promise it on our honour.

Will you give the parcel to the Station Master because we don't know what train you come down by? Say it is for Peter that was sorry about the coals and he will know all right.

Robert

Park

Peter

Then came the list of things the doctor had ordered.

The old gentleman read it through once and his eyebrows went up.

He read it twice and smiled a little.

When he had read it thrice, he put it in his pocket and went on reading The Times.

At about six that evening, there was a knock at the back door.

The three children rushed to open it and there stood the friendly porter, who had told them so many interesting things about railways. He dumped down a big hamper and some flowers in the kitchen.

"Old gentleman," he said, "he asked me to fetch it up straight away."

"Thank you very much," said Peter.

Then the children undid the hamper. First there was straw, then there were fine shavings and then came all the things they had asked for and plenty of them. There was a letter too.

Dear Robert and Park and Peter, Here are the things you want. Your mother will want to know where they came from. Tell her they were sent by a friend who heard she was ill. When she is well again you must tell her all about it, of course. And if she says you ought not to have asked for the things, tell her that I say you were quite right and that I hope she will forgive me for taking the liberty of allowing myself a very great pleasure.

The letter was signed G P something that the children couldn't read.

"I think we were right," said Park.

"Right? Of course, we were right," said Robert.

"All the same," said Peter, with his hands in his pockets, "I don't exactly look forward to telling Mother the whole truth about it."

We're not to do it till she's well," said Robert, "and when she's well, we shall be so happy we shan't mind a little fuss like that. Oh, just look at the roses! I must take them up to her."

"And the sweet briar," said Park, sniffing it loudly, "don't forget the sweet briar."

By Arlie BS