a 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 passed 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 pass 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.

'Oh!' she exclaimed, with a little scream, 'is it _that_ you are afraid
of, Giles? Do you think we are in the _London_ train? I did think it was
funny that we were getting back into the same one, but you said that the
man said that the carriages at the front were for Hill Horton?'

'Well, I _thought_ he did,' I replied, 'but--' one's mind works quickly
when you are frightened sometimes--'he _might_ have said "Victoria," for
the "tor" in "Victoria" and "Horton" sound rather alike.'

'But wouldn't he have said "London"?' asked Peterkin.

'No, I think they generally say the name of the station in London,' I
explained. 'There are so many, you see.'

Then we all, for a minute or two, gazed at each other without speaking.
Margaret had got still paler than usual, and I fancied, or feared, I
heard her choke down something in her throat. Peterkin, on the
contrary, was as red as a turkey-cock, and his eyes were gleaming. I
think it was all a part of the fairy-tale to him.

'What shall we do?' said Margaret, at last, and I was forced to answer,
'I don't know.'

Bit by bit things began to take shape in my mind, and it was no good
keeping them to myself.

'There'll be the extra money to pay for our tickets to London,' I said
at last.

'How much will it be? Isn't there enough ov