he stepped from the train and looked up and down the platform.
The three children, now that it came to the point, suddenly felt that rush of deep shyness which makes your ears red and hot, your hands warm and wet, and the tip of your nose pink and shiny.
"Oh," said Phyllis, "my heart's thumping like a steam-engine—right under my sash, too."
"Nonsense," said Peter, "people's hearts aren't under their sashes."
"I don't care—mine is," said Phyllis.
"If you're going to talk like a poetry-book," said Peter, "my heart's in—"
"My heart's in my boots—if you come to that," said Roberta; "but do come on—he'll think we're idiots."
"He won't be far wrong," said Peter, gloomily. And they went forward to meet the old gentleman.
"Hullo," he said, shaking hands with them all in turn. "This is a very great pleasure."
"It was good of you to get out," Bobbie said, perspiring and polite.
He took her arm and drew her into the waiting room where she and the others had played the advertisement game the day they found the Russian. Phyllis and Peter followed. "Well,"
