"That's perfect rubbish," said Peter.
"I've looked all over for it, Mr. Neale."
"That wasn't what I meant was rubbish, Kate. I'm glad you lost it. I want you to keep on losing it. I meant it's rubbish for him to be staying up this late and asking for things."
"Yes sir."
"Now we'll both say good night to him, Kate, and let him go to sleep."
Pat began to cry not only loudly but with a certain note of sincerity which caught Peter's ear. "What's the matter with him now?"
"He made me promise I'd tell him a story if I couldn't find the funny paper," said Kate.
"It's too late now and anyway if he made you do it, Kate, it isn't a promise. It don't count."
"Yes, Mr. Neale. But it's so set he is he'll be calling me back all the night long for me to tell him the story. It's nothing he does be forgetting."
"All right, Kate, we'll settle that very easily. You go out and I'll stay and he can cry his head off."