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Updated: June 13, 2025
"I asked you," interrupted Mr Pamphlett, "what that firing means, out there? It's friendly, of course? A British battleship?" "As to that," replied Un' Benny, slowly ruminating, "I wouldn' call it friendly in any man to let off a big-inch gun at anything. That's not the word I'd choose.
He had a plan of the proposed new building, with a fine stucco frontage and edgings of terra-cotta. Mr Pamphlett saw his way to make this improvement, and was quite resolute about it; and Nicky-Nan, by his earlier reception of notices to quit, had not bettered any chance of resisting.
"Business as usual!" said Mr Pamphlett heartily to his clerk Mr Hendy, as he let himself in at 9.40 by the side door of the Bank. Mr Hendy lived on the premises, which his wife served as caretaker, with a "help" to do the scrubbing. Mr Hendy, always punctual, stood ready in the passage, awaiting his master.
She hesitated a moment. "'Tis a hard thing for a woman to say. . . . But maybe 'tis turnin' out you are?" she suggested brightly. "Turnin' out?" "That would simplify things, o' course. And everybody knowin' that Pamphlett's served you with a notice to quit " But thereupon Nicky-Nan exploded. "Served me with a notice, did he? Pamphlett! . . . Well, yes he did, if you want to know.
"This Moratorium, you know. The War makes itself felt, even in this little place." If Nicky-Nan had known the meaning of the word Moratorium, it might have given him an opening. But he did not, and so he stood dumb. "You have come to say, I hope," hazarded Mr Pamphlett after a pause, "that you don't intend to give me any more trouble? . . . You've given me enough, you know.
"Ask him!" she answered, nodding towards Mr Pamphlett. "He knows all about it, an' 'tis no use for him to pretend he don't." "Me give your small brother ?" began Nicky, but broke off with a groan and felt his brow again. "Oh, where's the head or tail to this? Where's the sense? . . . Give me my money that's all I ask.
Then, swiftly, wrath came to his aid, and snatching up his staff again he stumped out to the foot of the stairway. "Who's that, up there?" "Ha! . . . Is that you, Nanjivell," answered the voice of Mr Pamphlett. "A domiciliary visit, and no harm intended." The figure of Mr Pamphlett blocked the head of the landing. Nicky-Nan raised his stick and shook it in a fury.
It gave him a wonderful sense of stability, on the strength of which he had been able to talk with Mr Pamphlett as one man should with another. And lo! he had prevailed.
Here every morning he dealt with his correspondence; while Hendy, in the main room of the Bank, unlocked the safe, fetched out the ready cash and the ledgers, and generally made preparations before opening the door for business on the stroke of ten. Five or six letters awaited Mr Pamphlett.
Great Britain's credit is solid; that's the word, solid: and if that er solidarity holds true of our monetary system with" here Mr Pamphlett expanded and contracted his fingers as if gathering gossamers "its delicate and far-reaching complexities. . . That was an excellent duck, James," said he, turning to his brother-in-law. "I don't remember when I've tasted a better."
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