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"Get on with the story, boy," Mr Pamphlett commanded. "Well, sir, I owned to him that I was left pretty well at a loose end, with nothin' on hand but to think out how to do a Kind Action every day, as is laid down in the Scout Rules: and it may come easy enough to you, sir," added 'Bert with unconscious irony, "but I got no invention.
But to-day, with all Europe in the melting-pot so to speak Mr Pamphlett had broken his rule. He craved to know the exact speed at which Russia was "steam-rolling." There was a map in the paper, and it might repay study. Before studying the map his eye fell on a paragraph headed "Rise in Prices." He paused and spent some time over this.
"Here, run downstairs and fetch up some more water, if you want to be useful." 'Beida stared at the ewer. She transferred her gaze to Rat-it-all and his patient: then, after a shiver, to Mr Pamphlett. She had courage. Her eyes grew hard and fierce. "Is that why Mr Pamphlett's pokin' his nose into a cupboard?"
A quick succession of these, running into one as though a red-hot iron had been applied under the thigh, searing it to the very bone, stabbed suddenly into his brain with a new terror. He had forgotten the anonymous letter and its threat! He was a rich man now. The business of a rich man was to stay at home and preserve his riches while making use of them-like Pamphlett.
Mr Pamphlett had breakfasted, and had gone upstairs to put on his frock-coat and array himself for Divine service. The servant girl announced Mr Nanjivell. "Sorry to trouble 'ee, sir, and upon such a day," said Nicky-Nan, drawing up his sound leg to "attention," as his enemy entered the parlour: "but my business won't wait.
It's money will put us through this, Hendy, as it always has. We mayn't wear uniforms" Mr Pamphlett smoothed down the alpaca over his stomach "but we're the real sinews of this War."
I saw Doctor Mant after the meetin' last night, an' this mornin' I was up early an' had a talk wi' the Minister wi' Mr Hambly. The upshot is, that time presses." "I do not usually discuss business on the Sabbath," said Mr Pamphlett stiffly. "O' course not. Who would?" Nicky-Nan agreed. "But the upshot is that you an' me havin' been not what you might call friends "
"Folks don't happen on buried treasure in Polpier; and you can't have a legacy without its getting into the papers." Mr Latter had no sooner departed than she put on her bonnet and paid a call on her friend Miss Charity Oliver. "If Mr Pamphlett were only a magistrate " said Mrs Polsue, after telling her story.
For a moment Mr Pamphlett realised this, and it gave him a scare. In the act of opening the letter he cast his eyes around on the chance that a telegram had followed the letter, demanding to know the cause that took him from his post at this crisis. But there was no telegram. The envelope held two enclosures. He scanned them hurriedly: the blood came back to his face, and he was a man again.
"You tarnation imp!" exclaimed the builder. "Which," continued 'Bert stolidly, "he was askin' if he reckoned by chance th' Old Doctor's House had any secret hidin' places, an' would he oblige the landlord Mr Pamphlett by comin' along to-morrow an' bringin' a hammer? Which I went straight home an' borryed mother's, an' an' " "An' you've told quite enough," put in 'Beida.
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