Loo’s Garden.  
The plans of nurses, not less than those of mice and men, are apt to get into disorder. Mrs Durby having packed up the diamond ring in the careful manner which we have described in a previous chapter, essayed to get ready for her important journey to London on pawning purposes intent, but she found that there were so many little preparations to make, both in regard to her own toilette and to the arrangements of Mrs Tipps’ establishment, in prospect of its being left without its first mate for a time, that a considerable period elapsed before she got her anchor tripped and herself ready to set sail with the first fair wind. Worthy Mrs Durby, we may observe, was fond of quoting the late captain’s phraseology. She was an affectionate creature, and liked to recall his memory in this somewhat peculiar fashion.
 
In anticipation of this journey, Netta went one evening, in company with Emma Lee, to pay Mrs John Marrot a friendly visit, ostensibly for the purpose of inquiring after the health of baby Marrot, who, having recently fallen down-stairs, swallowed a brass button and eaten an unknown quantity of shoe-blacking, had been somewhat ailing. The real object of the visit however, was to ask Mrs Marrot to beg of her husband to take a special interest in Mrs Durby on her journey, as that excellent nurse had made up her mind to go by the train which he drove, feeling assured that if safety by rail was attainable at all, it must be by having a friend at court—a good and true man at the helm, so to speak.
 
“But la, Miss!” said Mrs Marrot, sitting on the bed and patting the baby, whose ruling passion, mischief, could not be disguised even in distress, seeing that it gleamed from his glassy eyes and issued in intermittent yells from his fevered throat, “if your nurse is of a narvish temperment she’d better not go with my John, ’cause he usually drives the Flyin’ Dutchman.”
 
“Indeed!” said Netta, with a puzzled smile; “and pray, what is the Flyin’ Dutchman?”
 
A yell and a glare from baby interrupted the reply. At the same instant the 7:45 p.m. express flew past with a roar, which was intensified by the whistle into a shriek as it neared the station. The house trembled as usual. Netta, not unnaturally, shuddered.
 
“Don’t be alarmed, Miss, it’s only the express.”
 
“Do expresses often pass your cottage in that way?” asked Netta, with a touch of pity.
 
“Bless you, yes, Miss; they’re always passin’ day and night continooly; but we don’t think nothink of it. We’ve got used to it now.”
 
“Does it not disturb you at night?” asked Emma Lee in some surprise.
 
“No, Miss, it don’t—not in the least. No doubt it sometimes do influence our dreams, if I may say so. As my son Bob says—he’s a humorous boy is my Bob, Miss—he says, says he, the trains can’t awaken us, but they do awaken noo trains of ideas, especially w’en they stops right opposite the winder an’ blows off steam, or whistles like mad for five minutes at a time. I sometimes think that Bob is right, an’ that’s w’y baby have took to yellin’ an’ mischief with such a ’igh ’and. They do say that a man is knowd by the company he keeps, and I’m sure it’s no wonder that baby should screech an’ smash as he do, considerin’ the example set ’im day an’ night by them ingines.”
 
Here another yell from baby gave, as it were, assent to these opinions.
 
“But, as I was sayin’,” continued Mrs Marrot, “the Flyin’ Dutchman is the name that my ’usband’s train goes by, ’cause it is the fastest train in the kingdom—so they say. It goes at the rate of over sixty miles an hour, an’ ain’t just quite the train for people as is narvish—though my ’usband do say it ain’t more dangerous than other trains—not s’much so, indeed, wich I believe myself, for there ain’t nothink ’appened to my John all the eight years he have drove it.”
 
“Is sixty miles an hour very much faster than the rate of ordinary trains?” asked Emma.
 
“W’y, yes, Miss. Or’nary trains they run between twenty and forty miles an hour, though sometimes in goin’ down inclines they git up to fifty; but my ’usband averages sixty miles an hour, an’ on some parts o’ the line ’e gits up the speed to sixty-five an’ siventy. For my own part I’m quite hignorant of these things. To my mind all the ingines seem to go bangin’ an’ rushin’ an’ yellin’ about pretty much in the same furious way; but I’ve often ’eard my ’usband explain it all, an’ he knows all about it Miss, just as if it wor A, B, C.”
 
Having discussed such matters a little longer, and entered with genuine sympathy into the physical and mental condition of baby, Netta finally arranged that her old nurse should go by the Flying Dutchman, seeing that she would be unable to distinguish the difference of speed between one train and another, while her mind would be at rest, if she knew herself to be under the care of a man, in whom she could trust.
 
“Well, Miss, I dessay it won’t much matter,” said Mrs Marrot, endeavouring to soothe the baby, in whom the button or the blacking appeared to be creating dire havoc; “but of course my ’usband can’t attend to ’er ’isself, not bein’ allowed to attend to nothink but ’is ingine. But he’ll put ’er in charge of the guard, who is a very ’andsome man, and uncommon polite to ladies. Stay, I’ll speak to Willum Garvie about it now,” said Mrs Marrot, rising; “he’s in the garding be’ind.”
 
“Pray don’t call him in,” said Netta, rising quickly; “we will go down to him. I should like much to see your garden.”
 
“You’ll find my Loo there, too,” said Mrs Marrot with a motherly smile, as she opened the door to let her visitors out. “You&r............