The khaki boy said , `` Just my luck , '' and two of the children began to cry . Aunt Cyrilla took some apples and striped candy sticks from her basket and carried them to them . She lifted the oldest into her ample lap and soon had them all around her , laughing and contented . The rest of the travellers straggled over to the corner and drifted into conversation . The khaki boy said it was hard lines not to get home for Christmas , after all . `` I was invalided from South Africa three months ago , and I 've been in the hospital at Netley ever since . Reached Halifax three days ago and telegraphed the old folks I 'd eat my Christmas dinner with them , and to have an extra-big turkey because I did n't have any last year . They 'll be badly disappointed . '' He looked disappointed too . One khaki sleeve hung empty by his side . Aunt Cyrilla passed him an apple . `` We were all going down to Grandpa 's for Christmas , '' said the little mother 's oldest boy dolefully . `` We 've never been there before , and it 's just too bad . '' He looked as if he wanted to cry but thought better of it and bit off a mouthful of candy . `` Will there be any Santa Claus on the train ? '' demanded his small sister tearfully . `` Jack says there wo n't . '' `` I guess he 'll find you out , '' said Aunt Cyrilla reassuringly . The pale , pretty girl came up and took the baby from the tired mother . `` What a dear little fellow , '' she said softly .
`` Are you going home XXXXX Christmas too ? ''
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