"But the noise was terrible. I--I thought for sure it must be the
Germans," came in Mrs Penhaligon's voice.

"Nothing of the sort. You exaggerate things," answered Nicky-Nan,
commanding his voice. "A rush of soot down the chimney, that's all.
I've been expectin' it for weeks."

"You mustn't mind my bein' easily alarmed--left alone as I be with a
family--"

"Not in the least, ma'am." Nicky-Nan resolutely closed the door and
lifted his candle to confirm the miracle.

The candle, which had been guttering, shot up one last flame and died
on a flicker of gold.



CHAPTER VII.


"QUID NON MORTALIA PECTORA . . ."


A moment later Nicky-Nan took a step to the door, half-repentant, on
an impulse to call Mrs Penhaligon back and bid her fetch a candle.
God knows how much of subsequent trouble he might have spared himself
by obeying that impulse: for Mrs Penhaligon was a woman honest as the
day; and withal had a head on her shoulders, shrewd enough--practised