“Well, good-bye, then,” said Peter.
But the man said, “Wait a minute.” He put his hand in his pocket and brought out some money—a lot of pennies and one or two shillings and sixpences and half-a-crown. He picked out two shillings and held them out.
“Here,” he said. “I'll give you this to hold your tongues about what's taken place to-day.”
There was a short, unpleasant pause. Then:—
“You ARE a nasty man, though, aren't you?” said Phyllis.
Peter took a step forward and knocked the man's hand up, so that the shillings leapt out of it and rolled on the floor.
“If anything COULD make me sneak, THAT would!” he said. “Come, Phil,” and marched out of the signal-box with flaming cheeks.
Phyllis hesitated. Then she took the hand, still held out stupidly, that the shillings had been in.
“I forgive you,” she said, “even if Peter doesn't. You're not in your proper senses, or you'd never have done that. I know want of sleep sends people mad. Mother told me. I hope your little boy will soon be better, and—”
“Come on, Phil,” cried Peter, eagerly.