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Updated: May 26, 2025
The corporal a stout man walked into the porch-way and knocked. Mrs Penhaligon answered the knock, and after a short colloquy was heard to call back into the passage summoning Mr Nanjivell. In half a minute Nicky-Nan hobbled out. Meanwhile, their passage over the bridge being clear ahead, our two ladies had no good excuse for lingering. Yet they lingered.
Although this narrative has faintly attempted to trace it here and there in operation, no one can keep tally with rumour in Polpier, or render any convincing account of its secret ways. It were far easier to hunt thistledown. The Penhaligon family were packing, preparing for the great move into Aun' Bunney's derelict cottage.
"What I want to know," said 'Bert, "is why he couldn' have married Mother years afore he did an' then I'd have been a man an' able to work a gun." "Ho!" Mr Penhaligon brought his fist down on the table with huge enjoyment. "Hear that, my dear? Wants to know why we didn' marry years afore we did?" He turned to his wife, appealing to her to enjoy the joke, but hastily averted his eyes.
" Rich as Squire Tresawna an' holy Solomon rolled into one," corroborated 'Bert, nodding vigorously. "Pinch it 'tween your fingers, mother, if you won't believe." But to her children's consternation Mrs Penhaligon, after a swift glance at the gold, turned about on Nicky-Nan as he backed shamefacedly to the doorway, and opened on him the vials of unintelligible fury.
"Stuff and nonsense, ma'am! . . . I beg your pardon: you're quite right: there is a mystery here, though it has nothing to do with German spies. I rather fancy I'm in a position to get to the bottom of it." On Saturday, almost at blink of dawn, the Penhaligons started house-moving. Mrs Penhaligon had everything ready even the last box corded more than thirty-six hours earlier.
Why, what's that you've a-got clinched in your hand?" "Sufferin's!" sobbed 'Biades, still shaken by an after-gust of fright. "What?" "Sufferin's!" echoed 'Beida excitedly. "Real coined an' golden sufferin's! Unclinch your hand, 'Biades, an' show the company!" As the child opened his palm, Mrs Penhaligon fell back, and put out a hand against the kitchen table for support.
Nicky-Nan duly posted the certificate, which Dr Mant had characteristically forgotten to date. After a week it came back with an official note drawing Nicky's attention to this, and requesting that the date should be inserted. "Red tape," said Nicky. He borrowed a pen from Mrs Penhaligon, and wrote the date quite accurately at the foot of the document.
I heard him say as you was done for, and would have to clear inside the next two or three days " "He did did he?" Nicky-Nan was arising in ungovernable rage; but Mrs Penhaligon coaxed him to sit down. "There now!" she said soothingly. "Take un' eat, Mr Nanjivell! The Good Lord bids us be like the lilies o' the field, and I can vouch the eggs to be new-laid.
Mrs Penhaligon might miss to be lucid in explanation, but never to be vivid. "What's your 'confidence'?" asked 'Biades, after a digestive pause. His sister 'Beida turned about while she bumped herself up and down in a sitting posture on the lid of an old sea-chest overfilled with pillows, bed-curtains, and other "soft goods."
And, if only for the parish credit, we'll be even wid um, by dad!" St. Piran still lapsed into his native brogue when strongly excited. But he had hardly done when Andrew Penhaligon came running in "St. Piran, honey, I've searched everywhere; an' be hanged to me if I can find the church at all!" "Fwhat's become av ut?" cried the saint, sitting up sharply. "How should I know?
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