Peter, hearing his weak self-pitying sobbing, overcame his momentary physical repulsion. “But I care, Uncle. I do care. Glory cares.”
“Where’s the good o’ your caring, dear old chap? You’re only a boy and Glory’s only a girl—you can’t help me.”
“But I can.” He pulled at his uncle’s trembling hands. “I’m going to hide you in the loft till they’ve all forgotten to look for you, and then——”
“But, chappie, I’ve got to be fed and my money’s all spent.”
“I’ll get food for you.”
Uncle Waffles bent above Peter, trying to catch his eyes.
“You’ll get food for me—but from where? Whose food?—You mean you’re going to steal for me. No, Peter, you shan’t do that.”
Peter was perplexed. “If I don’t, you’ll go hungry. People aren’t good to you. I won’t steal, I’ll—I’ll just borrow. When you’re safe, I’ll tell them and pay it all back.”
“That’s what I said, ‘I’ll just borrow.’ That’s why I’m here. I can’t bear to let you do anything wrong for me.”
“But if I don’t they’ll take you away and lock you up. My heart would break if that should happen.”