If Little Red Riding Hood's grandmother had been a gatekeeper, she would have lived in this cottage. The wolf would have arrived by train, after having given an obsolete timetable to the little girl, a deception that would have given him a few hours' advantage. The hunter would not have been a hunter but a railroader: a rolling man, who would have been worried not to see the old lady at her gate, waving as usual, hands on hips. She, the sentry of the railroad, punctual as it was necessary to be on the track, all her life punctuated by the passage of the trains, could not miss her service only one day!