Sometimes Peter fancied that his words meant a great deal more than they seemed to mean. He laughed when there was really nothing to laugh at and he tried to make Stephen talk, but Stephen was very silent. On the whole the conversation was dull, Peter thought, and once he nodded and was very nearly asleep, and fancied that the gentleman from London was spreading like a balloon and filling all the room. There was no mention of London at all. Peter wondered for what purpose Stephen had come there, because he sat looking at the fire with his brown hands spread out over his great knees, thinking apparently all his own thoughts. Then suddenly there came a moment. The London gentleman, Mr. Emilio Zanti, turned round quite quickly and said, like a shot out of a gun: “And what does our little friend think of it?” Peter did not know to what he was referring, and looked embarrassed. He was also conscious that Zachary was watching him keenly. “Ah, 'e does not understand, our little friend. But with life, what is it that you will do when you are grown up, my boy?” and he put his fat hand on Peter's knee. Peter disliked him more than ever, but he answered: “I don't know--I haven't settled yet.” “Ah, it is early days,” said Mr. Zanti, nodding his head, “there is much time, of course. But what is the thing that our little friend would care, most of all, to do?” “To go to school,” said Peter, without any hesitation, and both Zachary and Mr. Zanti laughed a great deal more than was in the least necessary. “And then--afterwards?” said Mr. Zanti. “To go to London,” said Peter, stiffly, feeling in some undefined way that they were laughing at him and that something was going on that he did not understand. “Ho! that is good,” said Mr. Emilio, slapping his knees and rocking in his chair with merriment. “Ho! that is very good. He knows a thing or two, our young friend here. Ho, yes! don't you mistake!” For a little while he could not speak for laughing, and the tears rolled down his fat cheeks. “And what is it that you will do when you are there, my friend?” he said at last. “I will have adventures,” said Peter, growing a little bolder at the thought of London and its golden streets. And then, suddenly, when he heard this, curious Mr. Zanti grew very grave indeed, and his eyes were very large, and he put a finger mysteriously to his nose. Then he leant right over Peter and almost whispered in his ear. “And you shall--of course you shall. You shall come to London and 'ave adventures--'eaps and 'eaps and 'eaps. Oh, yes, bless my soul, shan't he, Mr. Tan? Dear me, yes--London, my young friend, is the most wonderful place. In one week, if you are clever, you 'ave made thousands of pounds--thousands and thousands. Is it not so, Mr. Tan? When you are just a little bit older, a few years--then you shall come. And you ask for your friend, Mr. Emilio Zanti--because I like you. We will be friends, is not that so?”