“O, sir!” said Toad, crying afresh, “I am a poor unhappy washerwoman, and I’ve lost all my money, and can’t pay for a ticket, and I must get home tonight somehow, and whatever I am to do I don’t know. O dear, O dear!”

“That’s a bad business, indeed,” said the engine-driver reflectively. “Lost your money⁠—and can’t get home⁠—and got some kids, too, waiting for you, I dare say?”

“Any amount of ’em,” sobbed Toad. “And they’ll be hungry⁠—and playing with matches⁠—and upsetting lamps, the little innocents!⁠—and quarrelling, and going on generally. O dear, O dear!”