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Updated: June 20, 2025
For I take shame to own it, Mr Nanjivell, but at sight o' that boundless gold Satan whispered in the poor mite's ear, an' he started priggin'. . . . The way we found it out was, he came home from Mrs Pengelly's stinkin' o' peppermints: an' when we nosed him an' asked how he came to be favoured so, all he could say on the ground hop was that he'd met a shinin' Angel unexpected in Cobb's Ally: an' the Angel had stopped him and pulled out a purse an' said, 'Alcibiades Penhaligon, the Lord has been much interested of late in your goin's-out an' your comin's-in, an' what a good boy you've a-been.
But in the long evenings since my poor wife's death I often find time to think of you, Mr Nanjivell; bein' both of us lame of the right leg as it happens. Hows'ever 'tisn' no news o' riches for 'ee to-day, sorry as I be to say it: for the postmark's 'Polpier." He tendered the letter. Nicky-Nan stretched out a hand, but drew it back on a sudden suspicion. "No," he said. "You may take an' keep it.
"You cut it yourself, fallin' against the scurtin'-board by the cupboard," put in Builder Gilbert. 'Beida noted his nervousness. "You say so!" she rapped on him. "Maybe when Mr Nanjivell has you up before Squire Tresawna, you'll all swear to it in league." Again she turned to Nicky.
For more than the span of two generations this wealth had lain concealed; and now he he, Nicholas Nanjivell was a rich man, if only he played his cards well! With how sure an instinct he had clung to the old house! had held on to this relic of a past gentility to which by rights he belonged! He was a rich man now, and would defy Pamphlett and all his works
"He spat upon it, an' rubbed it on his trousers," answered 'Biades with a glibness that astonished himself, 'peeking' between his fingers to make sure that they really held the prize. Inspiration took the child, once started, and he lied as one lifted far above earth. "Mr Nanjivell said as it might help me to forget Father's bein' away at the War.
"Where did Miss Oliver get this one?" asked Mr Pamphlett, laying his right forefinger upon the guinea on the table while still holding the other displayed in the palm of his left hand. "I got it," confessed Miss Oliver, "off that youngest child of Samuel Penhaligon's, who told me it had been given him as a present by Mr by Nicholas Nanjivell." She blanched, as Mr Pamphlett stared at her.
'Bert agreed with me when I told him," she continued, still lifting her voice, "and unbeknown to you we cut an' fetched in a furze-bush, there bein' nothin' to give such a savour to bread, cake, or pie. So if you're willin', Mother, we'll fire it up while Mr Nanjivell tells his business."
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.
In point of fact," she added, "I'm not seeing Nicholas Nanjivell, but a woman called Penhaligon who lives in the other tenement here. Her husband was called up last Saturday." "What, are you ladies at work already?" "Oh, I don't let the grass grow under my feet," said Mrs Polsue. "Damn the woman, I suppose that's a slap at me," muttered Dr Mant to himself.
Anyhow, the child 'Biades turned and took refuge in the shop, hurling back the door-flap and its clanging bell. This left Miss Oliver without, in the awkwardest of situations: since she had a conscience as well as curiosity. This would never do, of course. . . . Yet she could not very well follow in at this moment and explain to Mrs Pengelly. Moreover, here was a mystery connected with Nanjivell.
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