oe.

"O-oh!" said Mrs Climoe, half aloud and all unheeded for the moment.
"So that's the way the wind blows, sure enough!"

CHAPTER XV.

THE 'TATY-PATCH.

Nicky-Nan went back to his parlour, closed the door carefully,
mounted the platform again, and resumed his plastering. He felt
vexed with himself over that little speech of bravado. It had been
incautious, with all those women listening.

Still it might be explained away, and easily enough. That woman
Polsue put everybody's back up. His words had been just a piece of
bluff to get rid of her.

He had succeeded, too. He chuckled, recalling Mrs Polsue's
discomfiture; how with a final sniff she had turned and passed out
between the ironical files that drew aside for her in the porchway.
. . . For a burden had fallen from his heart: his little mistake,
just now, weighed as nothing against the assurance that Dr Mant
would write a certificate and settle these meddlesome idiots at the
Troy Custom-house. . . . Moreover Dr Mant, who passed for a
knowledgeable fellow in his profession, had as good as assured him
that his leg was nothing to die of; not just yet anyway. Well, he
would have it attended to, sometime; his life was valuable now.
But he wasn't going to hurry about it, if a sound leg meant his being
taken and ordered off to this dam-fool War. Nicky-Nan pursed up his
lips as he worked, whistling to himself a cheerful, tuneless ditty.
Some one tapped on the door. "Who's there?"

"It's me," answered the voice of Mrs Penhaligon. "Can I come in?"

"No, you can't!" he shouted. "Here, wait a minute! . . . And what
might be the matter now?" he asked, as he opened the door a very
little way. "I'm sorry, ma'am, that I can't ask 'ee to step inside;
but there's a tidyin'-up goin' forward."

"I'd as lief speak to 'ee here, in the passage. Indeed I'd rather,"
said Mrs Penhaligon as he emerged, trowel in hand. "Well, what is
it?"

She hesitated a moment. "'Tis a hard thing for a woman to say. . . .
But maybe 'tis turnin' out you are?" she suggested brightly.
"Turnin' out?"

"That would simplify things, o' course. And everybody knowin' that
Pamphlett's served you with a notice to quit--"

But thereupon Nicky-Nan exploded. "Served me with a notice, did he?
Pamphlett! . . . Well, yes he did, if you want to know. But never
you fret: I'm upsides with Pamphlett. This is my house, ma'am: an'
here I bide till it pleases me to quit."

"O-oh!" sighed