u've been
venturin' on _me!_ S'pose now that, without so much as a visitin'
card, I nosed in on you with--'So that's your poor dear husban's
portrait, that you nagged to his grave--and a speakin' image of him
too, afore he took to the drink as the better way--An' what little
lux'ries might _you_ have cookin' in the apparatus, such as a barren
woman might reas'nably afford? Yes, yes--it must be a great savin',
havin' no children of your own, but do it warrant pig's liver an'
bacon of a Saturday?' Oh, my Gor, _I'll_ make your two ends meet
afore I've done with 'ee! _I'll_ tell 'ee the savin' of lard 'pon
butter! _I'll_ tell 'ee about nettle-broth an' bread-crumbs for a
child's diet! _I'll_--"

The noise had attracted a group of women to the porchway; among them,
Mrs Climoe--"good at the war-cry," as Homer says of Diomede.
They huddled forward, obscuring the light.

Mrs Polsue, feeling the wall firm against her back, collected her
dignity. "I wish all _respectable_ people here," she appealed to Dr
Mant, as he came hurrying up the passage, "to take note of this
woman's language."

"'Woman?'" panted Mrs Penhaligon. "No more of a woman than yourself:
and less of a lady, thank God! Out! OUT! afore I soil my hands upon
'ee!"

"You would hardly believe, Dr Mant"--Mrs Polsue addressed him with an
air of fine gentility, as the one person present who could
understand--"but I called on this poor body to advise and, if
necessary, procure her some addition to her income from the Emergency
Fund."

"Oh, take her away!" sobbed Mrs Penhaligon, suddenly breaking down.
"Isn't it enough to lie awake at night with your man at the wars?
You're a gentleman, sir, an' a doctor, an' can understand.
Do 'ee take her away!"

But Nicky-Nan had pushed forward. "You mean well, ma'am, I don't
doubt," he said, addressing Mrs Polsue. "But this here War has got
upon everybody's nerves, in a manner o' speaking."

"It doesn't seem to trouble yours," retorted Mrs Polsue, at bay and
vicious; "or maybe it has, and that's why you're not with the
Reserve."

Nicky-Nan flushed to the roots of his hair. But he answered
pacifically--"Until I go, ma'am, you may take it from me that Mrs
Penhaligon shan't want. I fixed all that up with her husband afore
he left. So there's not need for you callin' again, if you don't
mind."

He said it firmly, yet quite respectfully. One or two of the women
in the porch murmured approval.

Not so Mrs Clim