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"That'll feel like Sunday anyhow." "Poor lonely creatur'!" thought Mrs Penhaligon, who always pitied bachelors. On an impulse she said, "An' when you've done, Mr Nanjivell, there'll be fried eggs an' bacon, if you're not above acceptin' the compliment for once."
The writin's sloped backwards too, with a rake on it, same as was fash'nable on some o' the tea-clippers in my young days, but now 'tis seldom carried 'nless by a few steam-yachts." "Well, hand me over the thing I'll risk it," said Nicky-Nan. He took the missive and glanced at the address "Mr N. Nanjivell, Naval Reservist, Polpier R.S.O., Cornwall."
"Oh, well, if that's your piece of news," said Mrs Polsue with her finest satirical air, "it was considerate of you to put on your bonnet and lose no time in telling me. . . . But how long is it since we started 'Mister'-ing Nanjivell in this way?" Miss Oliver's face grew crimson.
Hendy ushered in Nicky-Nan, who hobbled forward to the table, hat in hand. "Good-morning, Nanjivell!" said Mr Pamphlett. "'Mornin', sir." "Another plea, I suppose? when you had my word on Saturday that I'd done with you." "'Tain't that." "Then what is it? . . . For I hardly suppose 'tis to pay up rent and arrears." "One two three four five six seven!"
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.
"Fiddlestick!" said 'Beida with a sigh of relief. "Now I know you're gassin'. . . . Just now you frightened me with your talk of executions, which is what they do to a man when he's murdered some person: and o' course if Nicky if Mr Nanjivell had been doin' anything o' that sort which he hasn', o' course. . . . But when you go on pretendin' as Rat-it-all can lock me up, why then I see your game.
Then I told him, sir," went on 'Bert, gathering confidence from the sound of his own voice, "that I was fair sick o' plannin' to do Kind Actions, which was no business of anybody's in War time, and a bad let-down after coast-watchin'. 'But, said I," here he turned upon Nicky-Nan "'if 'tis a Kind Action for Mr Nanjivell, I'd as lief do it upon him as upon anybody: for you might almost call him one o' the family, I said.
It was the child 'Beida's voice, calling from below. "Are you upstairs, Mister Nanjivell? I want to see you in such a hurry!" Following up her summons, she arrived panting at the open doorway. "O-oh!" she cried, after a catch of the breath.
"Owing me six pounds arrears, and piling up more? And after driving me to legal proceedings! Look here, Nanjivell. You are fumbling something in your pocket. Is it the six pounds you owe me?" "No, sir." "I thought not. And if it were, I should still demand the costs I've been put to. If you bring me the total on Monday But you know very well you cannot." "No, sir."
Rogues! Cheats! " He broke down and put a hand to his head in momentary faintness. "Where be I?" Then taking his hand away and catching sight of the blood on it, he yelled out "Murder! Where's my money? Murder! Thieves!" "Hush 'ee, Mister Nanjivell." 'Beida dropped on her knees beside him. "Hush 'ee now, co! Here, let me take the towel an' bathe your poor head," she coaxed him.
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