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Updated: June 17, 2025
"But that," Mrs Polsue persisted, reproducing what she had assimilated from her newspaper, "that is what folks in Polpier cannot be made to understand. At this moment the Germans are nearer than we are to London, as the crow flies; and here are our working classes living on honey and roses, like a City of the Plain. What are our young men thinking about?"
But I have my reputation to think about; an' the children, God bless 'em! I grant that Polsue body to be a provokin' woman. She 'ave a way with her that drives me mad as a sheep. But, if you don't mind me tellin' 'ee, you men have no sense not a mother's son of 'ee. Not a doubt my Sam'd ha' spoke up just as fierce as you did. But then, you see, he's my Sam."
That's to say if, as I seem to remember, a man called Nanjivell lives here?" "He does," Mrs Polsue answered. "And if I may make bold to say so, it's high time!" "Eh? . . . Are you looking after him? I'd no idea that he was really sick." "No more haven't I," said Mrs Polsue. "But I'll say 'tis time somebody looked after him, if I say no more.
The voice, though creaking in tone and uttering borrowed words, impressed many among its audience with its accent of personal sincerity. Mrs Polsue knelt and listened with a gathering choler. This Hambly had no unction. He could never improve an occasion: the more opportunity it gave the more helplessly he fell back upon old formulae composed by Anglicans long ago.
To start with, I'd be afeard the Lord'd visit it on me. . . . An' then it came out he'd Known the whole affair for more than two months. The girl had been to him." "And he never told? . . . I tell you what, Cherry Oliver! It's my belief that man would set up a confessional, if he could." "Don't 'ee tell up such things, Mary-Martha Polsue, or I'll go an' drown myself!"
By this time Parson Polsue, with his sermon tucked under his arm, was tottering up the pulpit stairs, and Churchwarden Hancock standing underneath, as usual, to watch him arrive safe or to break his fall if he tumbled.
This was news to Mrs Polsue, and it did not please her at all. To speak in military phrase, her conjectures upon other folks' business were fed by a double line of communication. "Well, my dear, you won't pry on me going in and out there," she answered tartly, with a sniff.
"It took me by surprise," Mrs Polsue corrected her: " a man has no business to stand grimacing in his own doorway like a a " "Butler," suggested Miss Oliver, " like a figure in a weather-house. What do you know about butlers? . . . but" after a pause "I daresay you're right, there.
"But what puzzles me," went on Mrs Polsue, "is how that Nanjivell found the pluck. Every one knows him for next door to a pauper: and yet he spoke up, as if he had pounds an' to spare." "Perhaps you irritated him," suggested Miss Oliver. "Everybody knows that, poor as folks may be, if you try to set them right beyond a certain point "
It was you who started to talk about German money: and I answered you that, even if the money was German, there might be an innocent way of explaining it before you took upon yourself to warn the police." Mrs Polsue glanced at her friend sharply. "You seem to be gettin' very hot over it," was her comment. "Why, I can't think. You certainly wouldn't if you gave any thought to your appearance."
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