"Oh, no, that won't do at all!" Vera wailed. "She's only a baby! How will she eat? Where will she sleep? What am I to tell Mum? If Lydia's not back before Mum wakes, she'll be beside herself with grief!"

As tears began to drip down Vera's cheeks, the postman fumbled out a kerchief, which he passed to Vera, as he consulted another chart on his desk. "There's a second postal train that comes through the village in the right direction in just twenty minutes. Normally, it wouldn't stop, but we can put out a flag for it. It goes to the sorting station in London, and you're sure to find your sister there. Then you can explain the mistake and have the postmaster put you and your sister on a train back straightaway. You'll be home before tea!"

Ve...

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