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Nicky-Nan, Reservist by Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch
page 72 of 297 (24%)
monument, too,--upon a hill they call the Beacon. I'm very fond of
Bodmin. It's the County Town, you know; and with these little things
going on, in one way and another, why, that enlarges the mind."

"Does it so?" asked Nicky-Nan, a trifle puzzled.

"It do indeed," the constable assured him with conviction. "Take
_me_, now, at this present moment, for instance. You comes upon me
suddent, and what do you catch me doin'? You catches me,"--here his
voice became impressive--"you catches me lookin' up at the sky.
And why am I lookin' up at the sky? It is to say to you, 'Nicholas
Nanjivell, the wind is sot in the sou'-west?'"

"Not if you expect me to believe 'ee. 'Tisn' a point off
north-an-by-west."

"--Or," the constable continued, lifting a hand, "is it to say to
you, 'It is sot in the _north-west_,' as the case may be? Or is it I
was wastin' the day in idleness, same as some persons I could mention
in the Force if there wasn' such a thing as discipline? Not so. I
was lookin' up in the execution of my duty. An' what do you suppose
I was lookin' for?"

"I'm sure I can't tell 'ee," answered Nicky-Nan after a painful
effort at guessing. "It couldn' be for obscene language; nor yet for
drunks."

Policeman Rat-it-all leant forward and touched him on the top button
of his waistcoat.

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