When Ginger said she couldn’t bear it any more, she meant it. She had lived in London well over two months now, and that was longer than she had ever lived anywhere else in her life. She had a terror of falling into grooves and never being able to climb out again. Besides, August was upon them, and London in August is no place for anybody. So Ginger said to Gypsy,
“We must be off.”
“How?” asked Gypsy.
“By the first train from the nearest station,” said Ginger positively.
Gypsy looked at the Trafalgar Tube and said, “Shall we go to the Elephant and Castle, or to Edgeware Road?”
Ginger shed three tears and said, “If I don’t smell hay and hear corn to-day, I shall die.”
Gypsy shook the pillar-box gravely. He shook it to the extent of fivepence halfpenny.
“How did the halfpenny get in?” he said sternly. “Has somebody been cheating?”
“No,” said Ginger, “that was given me last Sunday by a poor child under twelve. What’s the matter with you? Children under twelve are half-price for everything, aren’t they?”