'Well, I thought he did,' I replied, 'but—' one's mind works quickly when you are frightened sometimes—'he might have said "Victoria," for the "tor" in "Victoria" and "Horton" sound rather alike.'
'But wouldn't he have said "London"?' asked Peterkin.
'No, I think they generally say the name of the station in London,' I explained. 'There are so many, you see.'
Then we all, for a minute or two, gazed at each other without speaking. Margaret had got still paler than usual, and I fancied, or feared, I heard her choke down something in her throat. Peterkin, on the contrary, was as red as a turkey-cock, and his eyes were gleaming. I think it was all a part of the fairy-tale to him.
'What shall we do?' said Margaret, at last, and I was forced to answer, 'I don't know.'
Bit by bit things began to take shape in my mind, and it was no good keeping them to myself.
'There'll be the extra money to pay for our tickets to London,' I said at last.
'How much will it be? Isn't there enough over?' asked Margaret quietly, and I could not help admiring her for it, as she took out her purse and gave it to me to count over what was left.
There were only four or five shillings. I shook my head.
'I don't know how much it will be, but I'm quite sure there's not enough. You see, though we're only halves, it's first-class.'