Fresh hope rose in Thomas's heart as they made their way along the
whole length of the train. The guard and the porter paused in their
gossip to turn and look at them, the engine-driver hanging lazily
over the side of his box watched them idly. Thomas, who was filled
now with fear that the engine would start off at a wild pace before
they had time to search the carriages, was somewhat relieved by the
lazy look of them all.

"Do you know if there was any little girl on board booked to
Springbrook?" Mr. Simmons asked the guard as they drew near him.

"Why, yes, I b'lieve there was," answered the man casually. "Got in
at St. Pancras. Hasn't she got out?"

"No."

Thomas hurried on more quickly. If she was booked for Springbrook,
and wasn't in the train, no one knew what might have happened to her.
She might have fallen out, or been stolen, or she might have got out
at the wrong station, and a terrible fear weighed on him as he
hurried on.

"Hi! Mr. Dawson, come here! Is this of her, do you think?"

Thomas ran along the platform to the carriage where the
station-master stood, and both looked in. The compartment was empty,
save for a little figure, huddled up fast asleep in one corner.
Thomas looked at her, and his eyes grew misty. "Ye--es, that's of
her," he answered. He hesitated, not because he doubted, for, though