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Now Swift Nicks is hiding there. Go back and tell the Squire you can find Swift Nicks for him, and they'll fill your pinner with guineas. You'll kiss me for a pinnerfull of guineas, won't you?" "No, sir," said she very decidedly. "Then kiss me, Nance, because, though we shall never meet again, we've helped one another when we did meet."
"May I not do as much as your pet ghostie did for you without being a miracle? Do not you dare, sir, to offer me a pinnerfull of guineas!" She looked at me with a merry twinkle in her eyes, and I feel sure I knew what she was thinking of.
He took my hand, looked at me intently, with his grey eyes very thoughtful and steady, and then said quietly, "Samuel Nixon, Bachelor of Arts, sometime Demy of Magdalen College, Oxford." "Commonly called 'Swift Nicks," I added, smiling. "Right first time," he cried gleefully, and shot off like an arrow towards Manchester. So Nance Lousely had not got her pinnerfull of guineas after all.