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Updated: May 26, 2025
Two evenings later, on his return from St. Austell market, he happened to let himself in by the door of the walled garden just beneath the house, and came on a tall young man talking there in the dusk with his wife. "Why, 'tis Zeke Penhaligon! How d'ee do, my lad? Now, 'tis queer, but only five minutes a-gone I was talkin' about 'ee with your skipper, Nummy Tangye, t'other side o' the ferry.
Left to herself, and as Nicky-Nan passed out of sight around the corner beyond the bridge, Miss Charity Oliver warily opened her palm and examined the guinea. "By rights," she mused, "I ought to take this in to Mrs Penhaligon at once, and caution her about Alcibiades. . . . No, I won't, though. I'll call first and have it out with Mary-Martha.
On this rubbish, after assuring himself that his treasure was safe, he fell to work with the sieve; making as little noise as might be, because by this time Mrs Penhaligon had begun operations on the brick flooring of the passage.
It ran into double figures in pounds sterling. "Business as usual!" repeated Mr Pamphlett to himself complacently, as he pursued his way up the hill. During his interview with Mr Pamphlett, Nicky-Nan had been in a fever to get back to his parlour. It had no lock to the door, and goodness knew what the Penhaligon children might not be up to in these holiday times.
He took a hand in it to the extent of informing me that Mrs Penhaligon was under his charge, if you ever heard anything so brazen. . . . I have often wondered," added Mrs Polsue, darkly musing, "why Polpier has not, before this, become as one of the Cities of the Plain." "Have you?" asked Miss Oliver. "If I let such a thought trouble my head, I'd scarce close an eye when I went to bed."
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.
But I wonder at you liggin' behind, when 'tis the only Bank Holiday randivoo this side o' Troy. . . ." "'Tidn' for want o' will," Nicky-Nan answered ruefully and truthfully, with a downward glance, which reminded Mrs Penhaligon to be remorseful. "Eh, but I forgot . . . and you with that leg on your mind! But you'll forgive a body as has been these two days in a stirabout.
"And here," said he, "be two sovereigns picked up in addition to the one you dropped this mornin'. It softens my surprise a bit," Corporal Sandercock added, "now that I see the house you occupy, and," with a glance at Mrs Penhaligon "the style you maintain. But for a man o' seemin'ly close habits, you're terribly flippant with your loose gold."
"There's another, unless I disremember," snapped Mrs Climoe, "that forbids 'ee to covet your naybour's wife." While Mr Hambly sought for a gentle reproof for this, Mrs Penhaligon, pale of face, rested a hand against her gate-post, and said she very gently but in a white scorn "What is this talk of naybours, quarrelin' or comfortin' or succourin' or bearin' witness?
What he wants he thinks he's bound to have same as these Germans." "He won't, then: nor they neither." "Tis a pity about your leg, anyway," said Mr Penhaligon sympathetically, and stared about the room. "Life's a queer business," he went on after a pause, his eyes fixed on the old beam whence the key depended. "To think that I be eatin' the last meal in this old kitchen.
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