“We are so sorry,” said the others.
And Perks at last consented to accept their apologies.
Then they got him to come out and sit in the sun on the green Railway Bank, where the grass was quite hot to touch, and there, sometimes speaking one at a time, and sometimes all together, they told the Porter the story of the Russian Prisoner.
“Well, I must say,” said Perks; but he did not say it—whatever it was.
“Yes, it is pretty awful, isn't it?” said Peter, “and I don't wonder you were curious about who the Russian was.”
“I wasn't curious, not so much as interested,” said the Porter.
“Well, I do think Mr. Gills might have told you about it. It was horrid of him.”
“I don't keep no down on 'im for that, Missie,” said the Porter; “cos why? I see 'is reasons. 'E wouldn't want to give away 'is own side with a tale like that 'ere. It ain't human nature. A man's got to stand up for his own side whatever they does. That's what it means by Party Politics. I should 'a' done the same myself if that long-'aired chap 'ad 'a' been a Jap.”
“But the Japs didn't do cruel, wicked things like that,” said Bobbie.
“P'r'aps not,” said Perks, cautiously; “still you can't be sure with foreigners. My own belief is they're all tarred with the same brush.”