well you cannot."

"No, sir."

"Then," said Mr Pamphlett, "we waste time. I have been worried
enough, these last few days, with more serious business than yours.
In the times now upon us a many folk are bound to go to the wall; and
the improvident will go first, as is only right. Enough said, my
man!"

Nicky-Nan fumbled with the knife in his pocket, but let Mr Pamphlett
pass.

Then he limped back to the house that would be his until Monday, and
closed the door. Beyond the frail partition which boarded him off
from the Penhaligon family he could hear the children merry at tea.



CHAPTER II.


CALL TO ARMS.

NESCIO QUA NATALE SOLUM DULCEDINE CUNCTOS
DUCIT ET IMMEMORES NON SINIT ESSE SUI.

--The Old Doctor (to whom we have made allusion) had been moved to
write an account of his native place, and had contrived to get it
published by subscription in a thin octavo volume of 232 pages,