oke 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 fin