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Neither 'Bert nor 'Beida, when they came to talk it over, could understand why their mother was in such a fever to quit the old house. Scarcely ten days before she had kept assuring them, almost angrily, that there was no hurry before Michaelmas. "She's upset," said 'Bert.
He tells me his motto is 'Be British, an' he has to do a kind action every day of his life: which he won't find easy, in a little place like Polpier." As 'Beida drew breath, the boy faced Nicky-Nan half sulkily. "They put me into this outfit. I didn't ask for it." "If you want my opinion, 'Bert," said Nicky-Nan, "it suits 'ee very well; an' you look two inches taller in it already."
She went to the kitchen, she passed through the kitchen to the inner room. . . . No children! "'Beida!" "You naughty children come down this moment!" Still no answer. She turned upon Nicky-Nan. "If they're really here and have been breakin' your glass " "You never heard no complaint from me, ma'am," answered Nicky-Nan, still intent on fixing his staple.
'Bert and 'Beida had been given to understand had made sure in fact that the move would be made, at earliest, in the week before Michaelmas Day. For some reason or other Mrs Penhaligon had changed her mind, and was hurrying things forward almost feverishly.
"Lor sake!" said he, hastily shutting and pocketing his knife. "What you got there?" "'Biades," answered 'Beida, with a tragical face. "Han't I heard your mother warn 'ee a score o' times, against lettin' that cheeld play loose on the Quay! . . . What's happened to 'en? Broke his tender neck, I shouldn' wonder. . . . Here, let me have a look " "Broke his tender fiddle-stick!" 'Beida retorted.
For I be hungry as a hunter. . . . Well, so it's War for sure, and a man must go off to do his little bit; though how it happened " In the act of helping himself he glanced merrily around the table. "Eh, 'Beida, my li'l gel, what be you starin' at so hard?" "Father looks fine, don't-a?" responded 'Beida, addressing the company.
Mrs Penhaligon might miss to be lucid in explanation, but never to be vivid. "What's your 'confidence'?" asked 'Biades, after a digestive pause. His sister 'Beida turned about while she bumped herself up and down in a sitting posture on the lid of an old sea-chest overfilled with pillows, bed-curtains, and other "soft goods."
"Get along with your 'females'!" fired up 'Beida, springing to arms for her sex. "I'd like to know where the world'd be without us. But don't you see that 'tisn' like Mother to be so daggin' to quit the old house?" "She wants to get the grievin' over, I tell you," 'Bert maintained.
"You cut it yourself, fallin' against the scurtin'-board by the cupboard," put in Builder Gilbert. 'Beida noted his nervousness. "You say so!" she rapped on him. "Maybe when Mr Nanjivell has you up before Squire Tresawna, you'll all swear to it in league." Again she turned to Nicky.
"But little pitchers have the longest ears; an' mother an' me bein' so busy with the packin', he got ahead of us. He's a clivver child, too, but" 'Beida shook her head "I'm harried in mind about 'en.
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