Phyllis hesitated. Then she took the hand, still held out stupidly, that the shillings had been in.
"I forgive you," she said, "even if Peter doesn't. You're not in your proper senses, or you'd never have done that. I know want of sleep sends people mad. Mother told me. I hope your little boy will soon be better, and—"
"Come on, Phil," cried Peter, angrily.
"I give you my sacred honour-word we'll never tell any one. Kiss and be friends," said Phyllis, feeling how noble it was of her to try to make up a quarrel in which she was not to blame.
The signalman stooped and kissed her.
"I do believe I'm a bit off my head, Sissy," he said. "Now run along home to Mother. I didn't mean to put you about—there."
So Phil left the hot signal-box and followed Peter across the fields to the farm.
When the farm men, led by Peter and Phyllis and carrying a hurdle covered with horse-cloths, reached the manhole in the tunnel, Bobbie was fast asleep and so was Jim. Worn out with the pain, the Doctor said afterwards.
"Where does he live?" the bailiff from the farm asked, when Jim had been lifted on to the hurdle.
