“What AIN'T nothing to you?” said Peter, too anxious and alarmed to change the form of words.
“Nothing ain't nothing. What 'appens either 'ere or elsewhere,” said Perks; “if you likes to 'ave your secrets, 'ave 'em and welcome. That's what I say.”
The secret-chamber of each heart was rapidly examined during the pause that followed. Three heads were shaken.
“We haven't got any secrets from YOU,” said Bobbie at last.
“Maybe you 'ave, and maybe you 'aven't,” said Perks; “it ain't nothing to me. And I wish you all a very good afternoon.” He held up the paper between him and them and went on reading.
“Oh, DON'T!” said Phyllis, in despair; “this is truly dreadful! Whatever it is, do tell us.”
“We didn't mean to do it whatever it was.”
No answer. The paper was refolded and Perks began on another column.
“Look here,” said Peter, suddenly, “it's not fair. Even people who do crimes aren't punished without being told what it's for—as once they were in Russia.”
“I don't know nothing about Russia.”