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. Sufficient for the day. . . .
An' here 'tis the Sabbath, an' to-morrow Bank Holiday. Put the man
out o' your thoughts, an' leave the Lord to provide."

"If I had that man here--"

Nicky-Nan was sharp set; indeed he had been hungry, more or less, for
weeks. But now, with the eggs and bacon wooing his nostrils, his
choler arose and choked him. He stared around the cleanly kitchen.
"And on quarter-day, ma'am, 'twill be your turn. It beats me how you
can take it so quiet."

"I reckon," said Mrs Penhaligon simply, looking down on the dish of
eggs (which maybe suggested the image to her)--"I reckon as the hen's
home is wherever she can gather the chickens under her wings.
Let's be thankful we're not like they poor folk abroad, to have our
homes overrun by this War."

"'War'?" Nicky-Nan recollected himself with an effort. "Seemin' to
me you're all taken up with it. As though there weren't other things
in this world--"

"If only the Almighty'll send my Sam home safe an' well!"

But at this point Mr Penhaligon entered the kitchen, with the
sea-boots dangling from his hand. He wore his naval uniform--that of
an A.B.; blue jumper and trousers, white cinglet edged with blue
around his stout throat, loose black neck-cloth and lanyard white as
driven snow. His manner was cheerful--even ostentatiously cheerful:
but it was to be observed that his eyes avoided his wife's.

"Hullo, naybour!" he shouted, perceiving Nicky-Nan. "Well, now, I
count this real friendly of ye, to come an' give me the send-off."
And indeed Nicky's presence seemed to be a sensible relief to him.
"Haven't ate all the eggs, I hope? For I be hungry as a hunter.
. . . Well, so it's War for sure, and a man must go off to do his
little bit; though how it happened--" In the act of helping
himself he glanced merrily around the table. "Eh, 'Beida, my li'l
gel, what be you starin' at so hard?"

"Father looks fine, don't-a?" responded 'Beida, addressing the
company.

"What I want to know," said 'Bert, "is why he couldn' have married
Mother years afore he did--an' then I'd have been a man an' able to
work a gun."