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Updated: June 24, 2025
It seemed to Tilda, although here were meadows and clean waterflags growing by the brink, and a wide sky all around, that yet this ugly smoke hung on their wake and threatened them. "Why are we stoppin'?" she demanded again, as Sam Bossom, with a hurried if friendly nod, resumed his calculations. "And four is fifteen, and fifteen is one-an'-three," said he.
Then one-an'-three and one is two-an'-three, an' two two's four, two-an'-seven, screws and staples two two's, two-an'-eleven. If you ask my opinion we're in for settled weather." Nicky-Nan's business had taken time some twenty minutes in excess of his calculations, as a glance at the sky informed him. On entering the parlour he drew a breath of relief. No one had visited it, to disturb it.
"One can't be too careful in these times," said Nicky-Nan with feigned artlessness. "No, indeed! Anything I can do for 'ee in the way of barbed wire?" "No, I thank 'ee." Nicky-Nan's eyes had been wandering around the shop. "But I'll take this small sieve, now I come to think on it." "Certainly, Mr Nanjivell. One-an'-three. Shall I send it for 'ee? No? an' nothing further to-day?
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