Діти залізниці

           Imighthavecaughtmyfootinthehoe,ortakenoffmyfingersinthechaff-cuttingmachineorblownmynoseoffwithfireworks.Itwouldhavebeenhurtjustthesamewhetherwe’dbeenrowingornot."

           "ButIknewitwaswrongtoquarrel,"saidBobbie,intears,"andnowyou’rehurtand—"

           "Nowlookhere,"saidPeter,firmly,"youjustdryup.Ifyou’renotcareful,you’llturnintoabeastlylittleSunday-schoolprig,soItellyou."

           "Idon’tmeantobeaprig.Butit’ssohardnottobewhenyou’rereallytryingtobegood."

           (TheGentleReadermayperhapshavesufferedfromthisdifficulty.)

           "Notit,"saidPeter;"it’sajollygoodthingitwasn’tyouwashurt.I’mgladitwasME.There!Ifithadbeenyou,you’dhavebeenlyingonthesofalookinglikeasufferingangelandbeingthelightoftheanxioushouseholdandallthat.AndIcouldn’thavestoodit."

           "No,Ishouldn’t,"saidBobbie.

           "Yes,youwould,"saidPeter.

           "ItellyouIshouldn’t."

           "Itellyouyouwould."

           "Oh,children,"saidMother’svoiceatthedoor."Quarrellingagain?Already?"

           "Wearen’tquarrelling—notreally,"saidPeter."Iwishyouwouldn’tthinkit’srowseverytimewedon’tagree!"WhenMotherhadgoneoutagain,Bobbiebrokeout:—

           "Peter,IAMsorryyou’rehurt.ButyouAREabeasttosayI’maprig.