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Updated: May 31, 2025
"He's bleedin' for his country, is 'Biades, if you really want to know; and if you was helpful you'd lend us that knife o' yours." "What for, missy?" "Why, to take off the injured limb. 'Bert's knife's no good since the fore-part o' the week, when he broke the blade prizin' up limpets an' never guessing how soon this War'd be upon us." "I did," maintained 'Bert. "I was gettin' in food supplies."
"And as for you" he turned impatiently on 'Biades "I wish you'd find your sister, to fetch an' shut 'ee away somewhere. Where's 'Beida to?" "She's breakin' the news to mother," answered 'Biades. By seven o'clock Nicky-Nan had measured and cut his boards to size. He fitted them loosely to floor the bedroom cupboard. Later on he would fix them securely in place with screws.
"There's no way to tell a Spy at first," added 'Beida; "an' that's why they're so dangerous. The usual way is that first you have your suspicions, an' then, some day when he's not lookin', you search his premises an' the fat's in the fire." "What's an infirmity?" asked 'Biades. Getting no answer, after half a minute he asked, "What's premises?" Still there was no answer.
As for 'Biades, he was rather more certainly not less of a nuisance than children of his age usually are when a family intends a move. He asked a thousand questions, wandered among packing-cases as in a maze, and, if his presence were forgotten for a moment, sat down and howled.
As his passion died down and he limped forward, to pause and again limp forward, his gait and the backward cast of his eye were not unlike those of a hunted hare. He reached the house door at nightfall, just as Mrs Penhaligon came shepherding her offspring home down the dusky street, 'Biades had yielded to the sleep of exhaustion, and lay like a log in his mother's arms.
Two pennies will buy twice as much as one, you know." "O' course I know that," said 'Biades cunningly. "But what for?" "Because you have told me such a pretty story." 'Biades hesitated. He had been driven in self-defence, to be sure into saying things at the bare thought of which he felt a premonitory tingling in the rearward part of his person.
"You won't shut the door on me again?" pleaded 'Biades. "That depends on how slippy you look. I make no promises," answered 'Beida sternly. "'Twas you that first stole Mr Nanjivell's money, and if you ben't doin' it again, well I can only say as appearances be against him eh, 'Bert?" "Fetch it out, you varmint!" 'Bert commanded. "But I don't understand a word of this!" protested the mother.
I suppose it takes people differ'nt as they get up in years." "I know azackly where I feel it!" announced 'Biades. "It's here." He set down his spoon and pointed a finger on the third button of his small waistcoat. "An' it keeps workin' up an' down an' makin' noises just like Billy Richard's key-bugle." "Then it's a mercy it ben't real," commented his brother. "'Biades is right, all the same."
The gardeners keep the front lawn so short with their mowing-machines that 'Biades couldn't possibly have made the front of his blouse in the mess it is unless he had purposely crawled on his stomach to lower me in the eyes of all. When it got to a certain point I pretended to have no connection with him. There was nothing else to do.
"If you don't stop it," 'Bert took a hand in threatening, "you won't get cut open till Monday; because 'tis Sunday to-morrow. And by that time you'll be festerin', I shouldn't wonder." " And mortification will have set in," promised his sister. "When that happens, you may turn up your toes. An' 'tis only a question between oak an' elum." 'Biades ceased yelling as abruptly as he had started.
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