Then he sat back and drank a whole cup of strong tea at one gulp. The children waited for him to speak, wondering what he had to say.

“Now,” he said, making his voice sound important and impressive, “you listen to me. Don’t any of you ever go down to that yard again. It’s a bad place.”

“Why?” asked Julian. “What do you mean — a bad place?”

“Things have happened there — years and years ago,” said Mr. Andrews. “Bad things. Accidents. It was all shut up after that and the tunnel wasn’t used any more. See? Nobody was allowed to go there, and nobody did, because they were scared. They knew it was a bad place, where bad things happen.”

Anne felt frightened. “But Mr. Andrews — you don’t mean there really are spook-trains, do you?” she asked, her face rather pale.

Mr. Andrews pursed up his lips and nodded very solemnly indeed. “That’s just what I do mean. Spook-trains come and go. Nobody knows why. But it’s bad luck to be there when they come. They might take you away, see?”

Julian laughed. “Oh — not as bad as that, sir, surely! Anyway, you’re frightening Anne, so let’s change the subject. I don’t believe in spook-trains.”

But Mr. Andrews didn’t seem to want to stop talking about the trains. “Wooden-Leg Sam was right to hide himself when they come along,” he said. “I don’t know how he manages to stay on in a bad place like that. Never knowing when a train is going to come creeping out of that old tunnel in the darkness.”

Julian was not going to have Anne frightened any more. He got up from the table and turned to Mrs. Andrews.

“Thank you very much for a lovely day and lovely food!” he said. “We must go now. Come along, Anne.”

“Wait a minute,” said Mr. Andrews. “I just want to warn you all very solemnly that you mustn’t go down to that railway yard. You hear me, Jock? You might never come back! Old Wooden-Leg Sam’s mad, and well he may be, with spook-trains coming along in the dead of night. It’s a bad and dangerous place. You’re not to go near it!”

“Well — thank you for the warning, sir,” said Julian, politely, suddenly disliking the small man with the big nose very much indeed. “We’ll be going. Good-bye, Mrs. Andrews. Good-bye, Jock. Come along to-morrow and have a picnic with us, will you?”

“Oh, thanks! Yes, I will,” said Jock. “But wait a minute — aren’t you going to take any food with you?”

“Yes, of course they are,” said Mrs. Andrews, getting up from her chair. She had been listening to the conversation with a look of puzzled wonder on her face. She went out into the scullery, where there was a big, cold larder. Julian followed her. He carried the two baskets.

“I’ll give you plenty,” said Mrs. Andrews, putting loaves, butter, and cream cheese into the baskets. “I know what appetites you youngsters get. Now don’t you be too scared at what my husband’s just been saying — I saw that little Anne was frightened. I’ve never heard of the spook-trains, and I’ve been here for three years. I don’t reckon there’s much in the tale, you know, for all my husband’s so set on warning you not to go down to the yard.”