"And before that?"

"Oh! heaps of 'em."

"Nobody ever told you whether you was a boy or a girl?"

"Nobody as I'd care to believe. Some of them called me the one,
some of them the other. It depended upon what was wanted."

"How old are you?"

"I dunno."

Mrs. Postwhistle turned to Peter, who was jingling keys.

"Well, there's the bed upstairs. It's for you to decide."

"What I don't want to do," explained Peter, sinking his voice to a
confidential whisper, "is to make a fool of myself."

"That's always a good rule," agreed Mrs. Postwhistle, "for those to
whom it's possible."

"Anyhow," said Peter, "one night can't do any harm. To-morrow we
can think what's to be done."

"To-morrow"had always been Peter's lucky day. At the mere mention
of the magic date his spirits invariably rose. He now turned upon
Tommy a countenance from which all hesitation was banished.