The Strange Behaviour of the 8.15

Press, Volume LXXV, Issue 22769, 22 July 1939, Page 6 (Supplement)

The Strange Behaviour of the 8.15

• The Lord Mayor of Popplettm •kissed his wife on the for&ead, plunged his 'hands into a pair rf ' fur-lined gloves, was helped on with - his overcoat and hat, and departed for the station in his magnificent ‘ car. Once inside, he pressed abut ton spoke into a microphone. V “You’ll have to harry, Ferguson, : |f I am to catch toe 8.15.” ,• { “Very well, sir,’* replied Fergut bon, and toecar aped on. ■■ On toe way, it passed Mtss Twltters, toe little schoolmistress, hn«y- ---’ Jhg along , tost her sniall toe* 1 would cany her. Occasionally- , would step to pick up an exercise . hook that felL At toe same fame toe would push her hat <m »traignt. look at her watch, give a htttegtoP. sand rush -along faster to catch tne |8.15t • , f -The lord mayor's car also_ paracd iUr Herbert Hopkins, toe pjumter. his bag at tools. Mr Hoptans ; ’was smiling to himseH and puffing "great clouds of smoke from a clay c tope He was in no hurry, Once f4*» even tomed back home to fetch tool he had forgotten, but little like that need not worry ’him he .thought. If he missed toe : 8.15, tool he would have to catch 'IJ» next train, that was aIL There was no joy in life if you rushed tour way along, particularly on a ihe spring morning like this. J ; All the usual passengers boarded the ais, including Michael and. Mavis Binney, who travelled each morning to the same school as Miss Twitters. They nearly always spent ■ the entire journey working' furi- ! ously, putting the finishing touches .on their homework. _■, ■ “Wouldn’t it be lovely if the train stuck and we comdn t to t school?” said Mavis, as the 8.15 t started with a jerk. ‘TVs such a p nice day.” . I- “Oh, you say that every day! .ret plied Michael scornfully. “What.ls the use of talking about impossible & things? Just like a girl!” I “Well it might stick, you know," i- argued Mavis. I “But you know jolly well it won t, fe That sort of thing only happens to ■ kids in fairy tales. Hear my vertw," t answered Michael, dismissing bis k sister’s fantastic Ideas for more i earthly and urgent matters. ii- ‘ Now there are some learned ale who say that thought travels. Ifier it was a coincidence it is to say, but strangely . enough. Tippers, a charlady sitting in [ toe next carriage, was thinking f how nice it would be if she could s *have a lie-down in one of thein I alee fields, and take a nice nap ■ Instead of breaking her back over washing steps and scrubbing floors jemMi toe big manor house. „, ~ •-c Ur Hopkins, too, was thinking jjfibw silly it was to have to work ? When the world was full of delight|tol country lanes and ; green pasBtores. where a. man . could roam -with never a’ thought of HFstopped pipes and leakipg tap*.

Ab tor Miss Twitter*, the sight of, all the countryside to its spring beauty filled her with a terrible longing to fling bersell down m the soft grass and forget that such a fifing existed as a great r»ie of exercise books toll of sums waiting to be corrected. *Taankett7^lt^?lun^ty-plml^ planketty-planfc” said itodtkd gmng sudden and unexpected torch» that caused the Lord Mayor of Poppleton am itfanirfort owing to a touch aiyt serene indigestion from wMAlie sufEered. all these luncheons 1 have to attend," be murmured to himsett. "And now there's another at wmriMdr. 1 daft know how I’m to do ft- People get so of*eoS&l If you don't eat the food they have provided Nobotor knows what a poor lord mayor ha* to go through-*! wish the train would break down—without an accident, of coarse,” he hastened to add, ‘ and then Fd have a legitimate excuse for not arriving!” And he twisted his plump body in order to find a more comfortable position among file cushions. Opposite him, a big business man added up large sums of money in his head, and then stopped adding to look at a field wherem a large and colourful notice-board announced: HOESES , REST Looking at the happy tow. already there, he thought. Wlto I could have a rest myself." Then he fell to thinking of the many times he played cricket as a boy. An these strange thoughts must have travelled through the 8,15 till they actuaUy reached the engine: for as It Meed past the same old places and onward towards Burnmgly, it suddenly decided that It was tired of running upon hard, unsympathetic railway-lines that caused one’s inside to rattle painfully.

“What would au we do if the 8.15 did not arrive at Burningly?” it mused, as it rushed into a tunnel, where it snorted and tattled violently, causing the Lord Mayor of Poppleton to groan aloud. “Plankety, planketty, phnketty, plank,” shrieked the engine, I hate tunnels, and when I come out of this one I’m going to run on to the siding and take a rest in that nice daisy field. I certainly am! And that is exactly what it did. Abandoning the regular track for an extra track that was sometimes used for switching, it ran smoothly and delightfully into the middle of quite the loveliest daisy-starred field imaginable. “Cracky!” cried Michael, dropping his books and leaning out the window. “Just look, Mavis!” “Hurrah!” shouted Mavis. “The train has stuck!” "Good gracious me!” whispered Miss Twitters, too surprised to raise her soft voice. As for the charlady, she woke up with a start, stared, and decided that she must still be asleep and dr “Can n f* believe my eyes?” cried the Lord Mayor of PoppletOn, “You can, sir, you can! answered ; the big business man angrily, “Lawks!” remarked Mr Herbert Hopkins, poking his head out of the window and sniffing In a deep breath of the sweet-scented air. The 8,18 gave a final little satis- : fled grunt and subsided comfort- > ably, while a frantic driver pushed i and pulled levers In vain. In V two minutes Michael and : Mavis were dancing round the field, L shouting their gladness, and to their ; utter surprise, Miss Twitters [ dropped her bag on the ground and ■ joined them In their mad caper of \ “Hurrah! Hurrah!” she cried, t “No school!" . : . “May I 'dp you put, Mrs Tippers?" said Mr Hopkins politely.

“Well, I never did!” replied that worthy lady, bumping into the lord mayor, who was descending from the next carriage. Whatever will they say up at the manor ’ouse?” “Let ’em say!” advised Mr Hopkins and, joining hands with the children and Miss Twitters, he began to dance round delightedly. In a few minutes the magic of the country had gone to everyone s head, and even the big business man was gaily organising a game of cricket, while the lord mayor discarded his heavy overcoat and gloves, and fielded valiantly , forgetting all about gout and indigestion. “Thank goodness I wont have to attend that lunch!” he panted. as he caught Mr Hopkins out, amid the cheers of those assembled. Meanwhile, the stationmaster at Poppleton was gazing in astonishment at a telegram he had received from the stationmaster at Burnhas happened to the 8.15?” the telegram said. „ , , “Don’t know. Left here, wired Poppleton to Burningly. “Not here yet,” came a second wire -from Burningly at 4 p.m. “Searching the line,” replied the village of Poppleton, and forthwith proceeded to do so. The search party came upon the 8.15 late that hlght. It looked very comfortable and cosy standing there in the field with all its windows alight. , The indignant officials had a good deal to say about the matter. “That train thinks it’s a house! they stormed, “behaving as ix « were a whole street of houses! “It’s no use blaming us! cried the unhappy driver and fireman. “The 8.15’s bewitched if you ask us anything about It. we can’t make ’er move nohow, and we defy anyone to try!” The passengers were quite annoyed at being disturbed, especially as Miss Twitters was at the moment telling them all a most delightful fairy story at which the Lord Mayor of Poppleton was chuckling, while the big business man munched sandwiches and drank lemonade from the • large supply which he b a fi°bhgingly procured from a' neighbouring farmhouse, aided by Michael and Mavis. As for Mr Hopkins, he still puffed smoke contentedly from his clay pipe, and used his bag of tools as a footstool, while Mrs Tippers had made a cushion from some washing belonging to the manor house, and obligingly !®nt it to the lord mayor >to ease his - back, which was 'aching after the strenuous game of cricket. ' Michael and Mavis did not want to go home at all. They would have been content to live In the

8.15 for ever and ever, but unfortunately, the grown-ups who were gifted with what they called “common sense,” realised that such a dream was impossible, for the world has to go on, even if trains do take it into their heads to stop W And so, reluctantly, they all took the other 8.15. Bu( before they said good-bye, the Lord Mayor of Poppleton gladdened all their hearts by offering the railway company a substantial sum o Of money to leave the daytime 8.15 exactly where it was. . The officials agreed, and there it stands to this day, bearing an extremely large notice that reads as follows: REST HOUSE FOR TIRED BUSINESS MEN. JUDRD MAYORS. SCHOOL CHILDREN, AND OTHERS. There is one good thing about it. It is always well stocked with lemonadel

A PRAYER

For grass so fresh about our feet, And flowers' that bloom with per fume sweet ■ , ’ Eor song of bird and lovely tree, For all things we hear and see. Father in Heaven, we thank Thee. —JEANNE MARSHALL.