In a twinkling she was up and lively.
"Has your father got on his overcoat, Sophia?
Is there danger ?" She darted from one side of the carriage to another, rubbing the moisture off each window with a bit of her shawl and speaking with rapidity.
Then she ran out of the car.

Two of the children followed her.

The others, reassured by Sophia's stillness, huddled together at the windows, shivering in the draught of cold air that came from the open door.
After some minutes Sophia's father came in again, leading his wife and children with an old-world gallantry that was apparent even in these unsatisfactory circumstances.

He had a slow impressive way of speaking that made even his unimportant words appear important.

In the present case, as soon as he began to speak most of the people in the car came near to hear.
Some obstruction, he said, had fallen across the line.