“It's Pax,” said Peter, dumping down the basket on the table. “Dr. Forrest has been talking scientific to me. No, it's no use my telling you what he said; you wouldn't understand. But it all comes to you girls being poor, soft, weak, frightened things like rabbits, so us men have just got to put up with them. He said you were female beasts. Shall I take this up to Mother, or will you?”
“I know what BOYS are,” said Phyllis, with flaming cheeks; “they're just the nastiest, rudest—”
“They're very brave,” said Bobbie, “sometimes.”
“Ah, you mean the chap upstairs? I see. Go ahead, Phil—I shall put up with you whatever you say because you're a poor, weak, frightened, soft—”
“Not if I pull your hair you won't,” said Phyllis, springing at him.
“He said 'Pax,'” said Bobbie, pulling her away. “Don't you see,” she whispered as Peter picked up the basket and stalked out with it, “he's sorry, really, only he won't say so? Let's say we're sorry.”
“It's so goody goody,” said Phyllis, doubtfully; “he said we were female beasts, and soft and frightened—”
“Then let's show him we're not frightened of him thinking us goody goody,” said Bobbie; “and we're not any more beasts than he is.”
And when Peter came back, still with his chin in the air, Bobbie said:—
“We're sorry we tied you up, Pete.”