Duck is very proud of being Great Western. He talks endlessly about it. But he works hard, too, and makes everything go like clockwork.

It was a splendid day.

The cars and coaches behaved well. The passengers even stopped grumbling!

But the engines didn’t like having to bustle about. “There are two ways of doing things,” Duck told them. “The Great Western way, or the wrong way. I’m Great Western and—”

“Don’t we know it,” they groaned.

The engines were glad when a visitor came. He purred smoothly towards them.

Sir Topham Hatt introduced him. “Here is Diesel. I have agreed to give him a trial. He needs to learn. Please teach him, Duck.”

“Good morning,” purred Diesel in an oily voice. “Pleased to meet you, Duck. Is that James—and Henry—and Gordon, too? I am delighted to meet such famous engines.”

The silly engines were flattered. “He has very good manners,” they murmured. “We are pleased to have him in our Yard.”

Duck had his doubts. “Come on,” he said.

Diesel purred after him.

“Your worthy Top—”

“Sir Topham Hatt to you,” ordered Duck.

Diesel looked hurt. “Your worthy Sir Topham Hatt thinks I need to learn. He is mistaken. We diesels don’t need to learn. We know everything. We come to a Yard and improve it. We are revolutionary.”

“Oh!” said Duck. “If you’re revo-thingummy, perhaps you would collect my cars while I fetch Gordon’s coaches.”

Diesel, delighted to show off, purred away.

When Duck returned, Diesel was trying to take some cars from a siding. They were old and empty. They had not been touched for a long time. Diesel found them hard to move.

Pull—push—backwards—forwards! “Oh-eeeer! Oh-eeeer!” the cars groaned. “We can’t! We won’t!”

Duck watched with interest.

Diesel lost patience.

“GrrRRRrrrRRR!” he roared, and gave a great heave. The cars jerked forward.

“Oh-eeeer! Oh-eeeer!” they screamed. “We can’t! We won’t!” Some of their brakes snapped, and the gear jammed in the sleepers.

“GrrrrRRRRrrrrRRRRrrrrRRRR!”

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” chuckled Duck.

Diesel recovered and tried to push the cars back, but they wouldn’t move. Duck ran quietly round to collect the other cars. “Thank you for arranging these, Diesel. I must go now.”

“Don’t you want this lot?”

“No, thank you.”

Diesel gulped. “And I’ve taken all this trouble. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You never asked me. Besides,” said Duck, “you were having such fun being rev-whatever-it-was-you-said. Goodbye.”

“GrrrRRRrrrRRR!” Diesel had to help the workmen clear the mess. He hated it.

All the cars were laughing and singing at him.

“Cars are waiting in the Yard; tackling them with ease’ll
‘Show the world what I can do,’ gaily boasts the Diesel.
In and out he creeps about, like a big black weasel.
When he pulls the wrong cars out—pop goes the Diesel!”

“Grrr!” growled Diesel, and scuttled away to sulk in the Shed.