But the children were far too deeply interested to listen.

'I tell you what,' said Cyril: 'let's let the thing go on and on,
and when we see a place we really want to stop at--why, we'll just
stop. Isn't this ripping?'

'It's like trains,' said Anthea, as they swept over the low-lying
coast-line and held a steady course above orderly fields and
straight roads bordered with poplar trees--'like express trains,
only in trains you never can see anything because of grown-ups
wanting the windows shut; and then they breathe on them, and it's
like ground glass, and nobody can see anything, and then they go to
sleep.'

'It's like tobogganing,' said Robert, 'so fast and smooth, only
there's no door-mat to stop short on--it goes on and on.'

'You darling Phoenix,' said Jane, 'it's all your doing. Oh, look
at that ducky little church and the women with flappy cappy things
on their heads.'

'Don't mention it,' said the Phoenix, with sleepy politeness.

'OH!' said Cyril, summing up all the rapture that was in every
heart. 'Look at it all--look at it--and think of the Kentish Town
Road!'

Every one looked and every one thought. And the glorious, gliding,
smooth, steady rush went on, and they looked down on strange and
beautiful things, and held their breath and let it go in deep