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Updated: May 19, 2025
"Speakin' as a publican, too," he confided, "I'd be sorry if anything happened to the chap an' we got a stranger in his place." "What's the matter with 'ee, Rat-it-all?" asked Nicky-Nan sympathetically. "By the way you've been behavin' all up the hill " "You noticed it?" "Noticed it!" "Rat it all! I mean, I was hopin' you wouldn't. I begin to see as it will take more practice than I allowed."
Hendy ushered in Nicky-Nan, who hobbled forward to the table, hat in hand. "Good-morning, Nanjivell!" said Mr Pamphlett. "'Mornin', sir." "Another plea, I suppose? when you had my word on Saturday that I'd done with you." "'Tain't that." "Then what is it? . . . For I hardly suppose 'tis to pay up rent and arrears." "One two three four five six seven!"
"I don't take much truck in this War, for my part," said Nicky-Nan, quartering on the narrow footpath to let Rat-it-all pass: "but it'll do a dam sight else afore we're through with it, if you want my opinion."
I mean it's a positive fact somebody has been putting that story about." "If I knawed the critter, male or female " Nicky-Nan gripped his stick. Miss Oliver could not help admiring his demeanour, his manly indignation. The man had fine features, too a touch of ancestry. She grew bolder.
Between him and the small window, almost blocking the light on a platform constructed of three planks and a couple of chairs set face to face stood Nicky-Nan, with a trowel in one hand and a bricklayer's board in the other, surprised in the act of plastering his parlour ceiling. "Had an accident here?" asked Dr Mant, eyeing the job critically. "Old house tumbling about your ears?"
"Die-rigitable," added Rat-it-all. "That's the point." "Well? . . . Have 'ee seen any?" Nicky-Nan lifted his gaze skyward. "I won't go so far as to say that I've seen anything answerin' to that description knockin' about not up to the present. But these are times when a man must keep his eyes liftin' if he doesn' want Old England to be taken with what the newspapers call a Bolt from the Blue."
An' then, as if that wasn' enough, you must come nosin' in after Mr Nanjivell's small savin's. . . . Gentry!" she swung round upon Builder Gilbert. "Here, Mr Gilbert, you're neither gentry nor perlice. When I tell you about Miss Charity Oliver, that calls herself a lady! That's your gentry!" "Hey?" Nicky-Nan pushed her hand aside. "What's this you're tellin', now?"
Nicky-Nan cast a glance over his shoulder. "We're neighbours here?" "Certainly," agreed Mr Latter, puzzled, and on his defence. "Noticed anything strange about Rat-it-all, of late?" "Rat-it-all?" "You wish friendly to him, eh? . . . I ask because, as between the police and licensed victuallers " Nicky-Nan hesitated. "You may make your mind easy," Mr Latter assured him.
Nicky-Nan paused a moment, hobbled back to bed and sat on the edge of it, steadying himself, yet half-awake. "It's some trick of Pamphlett's to get me out," he decided, and went downstairs cautiously. In the passage he found Mrs Penhaligon standing, alone, rigid as a statue. By her attitude she seemed to be listening.
So Nicky-Nan contented himself with closing the door carefully and hasping it. "If," began Lippity-Libby, "you go on gettin' letters at the rate o' one a day, there's only two ways to it.
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