'Beida's a good gel enough, when once ye've coaxed her into her best
things. It sobers her you can't think. She'll look after 'Biades
an' see that he don't put 'Lead us, Heavenly Father, lead us' into
his mouth, though 'tis where he puts most things."

"But you're goin' to the Treat yourself, ma'am?" Nicky-Nan suggested.

"What, in _this_ rig-out? Catch me!" answered Mrs Penhaligon, not
with literal intention but idiomatically. "No, I'm but goin' up to
see 'em off decent. But I wonder at you liggin' behind, when 'tis
the only Bank Holiday randivoo this side o' Troy. . . ."

"'Tidn' for want o' will," Nicky-Nan answered ruefully and
truthfully, with a downward glance, which reminded Mrs Penhaligon to
be remorseful.

"Eh, but I forgot . . . and you with that leg on your mind!
But you'll forgive a body as has been these two days in a stirabout.
And if you're fittin' to take a stroll before I get back, maybe
you'll not forget to lock the house up."

Nicky-Nan promised. (He and the Penhaligons had separate keys of the
main door.) He watched the good woman as she hurried on her way,
tying her bonnet-strings as she went.

It occurred to him that, leg or no leg, he felt lonely, and would be
all the better for a stroll. So, having fetched his stick and locked
the house-door behind him, he dandered down towards the Quay.
The street was empty, uncannily silent. "It's queer now," thought
Nicky-Nan, "what a difference childern make to a town, an' you never