The girls followed him as gallant soldiers might follow the leader of a forlorn hope.
"I do wish you wouldn't," was all they said.
"Go home if you're afraid," said Peter, "leave me alone. I'm not afraid."
The sound of the man's footsteps died away along the quiet road. The peace of the evening was not broken by the notes of the sedge-warblers or by the voice of the woman in the barge, singing her baby to sleep. It was a sad song she sang. Something about Bill Bailey and how she wanted him to come home.
The children stood leaning their arms on the parapet of the bridge; they were glad to be quiet for a few minutes because all three hearts were beating much more quickly than is at all comfortable.
"I'm not going to be driven away by any old bargeman, I'm not," said Peter, thickly.
"Of course not," Phyllis said soothingly; "you didn't give in to him! So now we might go home, don't you think?"
"No," said Peter.
Nothing more was said till the woman got off the barge, climbed the bank, and came across the bridge.
