er?' 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.'

'And what will they do to us if we can't pay,' she went on, growing
still whiter. 'Could we--could we possibly be sent to prison?'

'Oh no, no. I don't think so,' I answered, though I was really not at
all sure about it; I had so often seen notices stuck up on boards at
railway stations about the punishments of passengers not paying
properly, or trying to travel without tickets. 'But--I'm afraid they
would be very horrid to us somehow--perhaps telegraph to papa or mamma.'

'Oh!' cried Margaret, growing now as red as she had been white, 'and
that would mean my being shut up again at Rock Terrace--worse than
before. I don't know _what_ the witch wouldn't do to me,' and she
clasped her poor little hands in a sort of despair.

Then Peterkin burst out--

'I've got my gold half-pound with me,' he said, in rather a queer voice,
as if he was proud of being able to help and yet half inclined to cry.

'Goodness!' I exclaimed, 'why on earth didn't you say so before?'

'I--I--wanted it for something else,' said he. 'I don't quite know why I
brought it.'

He dived into his pocket, and dug out a very grimy little purse, out of
which, sure enough, he produced a half-sovereign.

The relief of knowing that we should not get into trouble as far as our
journey _to_ London was concerned, was such a blessing, that just for
the moment I forgot all the rest of it.

'Anyway we can't be put in prison now,' said Margaret, and a little
colour came into her face. 'Oh, Perkins, you _are_ a nice boy!'

I did think her praising him was rather rough on _me_, for I had had
bother enough, goodness knows, about the whole affair, even though I had
made a stupid mistake.

We whizzed on, for it was an express train, and for a little while we
didn't speak. Peterkin was still looking rather upset about his money.
He told me afterwards that he had been keeping it for his Christmas
presents, especially one for Margaret, as we had never had a chance of
getting her any flowers. But all that was put right in the end.

After a bit Margaret said to me, in a half-frightened voice--

'What shall we do when we get to London,