Country life -- England -- Fiction; England -- Fiction; Family life -- Fiction; Railroads -- Fiction; Siblings -- Fiction
“Nothing ain't nothing. What 'appens either 'ere or elsewhere,” said
Perks; “if you likes to 'ave your secrets, 'ave 'em and welcome. That's
what I say.”
The secret-chamber of each heart was rapidly examined during the pause
that followed. Three heads were shaken.
“We haven't got any secrets from YOU,” said Bobbie at last.
“Maybe you 'ave, and maybe you 'aven't,” said Perks; “it ain't nothing
to me. And I wish you all a very good afternoon.” He held up the paper
between him and them and went on reading.
“Oh, DON'T!” said Phyllis, in despair; “this is truly dreadful! Whatever
it is, do tell us.”
“We didn't mean to do it whatever it was.”
No answer. The paper was refolded and Perks began on another column.
“Look here,” said Peter, suddenly, “it's not fair. Even people who do
crimes aren't punished without being told what it's for--as once they
were in Russia.”
“I don't know nothing about Russia.”
“Oh, yes, you do, when Mother came down on purpose to tell you and Mr.
Gills all about OUR Russian.”
“Can't you fancy it?” said Perks, indignantly; “don't you see 'im
a-asking of me to step into 'is room and take a chair and listen to what
'er Ladyship 'as to say?”
“Do you mean to say you've not heard?”
“Not so much as a breath. I did go so far as to put a question. And he
shuts me up like a rat-trap. 'Affairs of State, Perks,' says he. But I
did think one o' you would 'a' nipped down to tell me--you're here sharp
enough when you want to get anything out of old Perks”--Phyllis
flushed purple as she thought of the strawberries--“information about
locomotives or signals or the likes,” said Perks.
“We didn't know you didn't know.”
“We thought Mother had told you.”
“Wewantedtotellyouonlywethoughtitwouldbestalenews.”
The three spoke all at once.
Perks said it was all very well, and still held up the paper. Then
Phyllis suddenly snatched it away, and threw her arms round his neck.
“Oh, let's kiss and be friends,” she said; “we'll say we're sorry first,
if you like, but we didn't really know that you didn't know.”
“We are so sorry,” said the others.
And Perks at last consented to accept their apologies.
Then they got him to come out and sit in the sun on the green Railway
Bank, where the grass was quite hot to touch, and there, sometimes
speaking one at a time, and sometimes all together, they told the Porter
the story of the Russian Prisoner.
“Well, I must say,” said Perks; but he did not say it--whatever it was.
“Yes, it is pretty awful, isn't it?” said Peter, “and I don't wonder you
were curious about who the Russian was.”
“I wasn't curious, not so much as interested,” said the Porter.
“Well, I do think Mr. Gills might have told you about it. It was horrid
of him.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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