the hills from whence
cometh my help_. . . ."

The slamming of a door at the street-corner beyond the bridge
recalled him to the world of action.

On the doorstep of the local Bank--turning key in lock as he left the
premises--stood a man respectably dressed and large of build. It was
Mr Pamphlett, the Bank-Manager. Nicky-Nan thrust his hands in his
trouser-pockets and limped towards him.

"If you please, sir--"

Mr Pamphlett faced about, displaying a broad white waistcoat and a
ponderous gold watch-chain.

"Ah! Nanjivell?"

"If you please, sir--" Nicky-Nan, now balanced on his sound leg,
withdrew a hand from his pocket and touched his cap. "I've been
waitin' your convenience."

"Busy times," said Mr Pamphlett. "This Moratorium, you know. The
War makes itself felt, even in this little place."

If Nicky-Nan had known the meaning of the word Moratorium, it might
have given him an opening. But he did not, and so he stood dumb.
"You have come to say, I hope," hazarded Mr Pamphlett after a pause,
"that you don't intend to give me any more trouble? . . . You've
given me enough, you know. An Ejectment Order. . . . Still--if, at
the last, you've made up your mind to behave--"

"There's no other house, sir. If there was, and you'd let it to
me--"

"That's likely, hey? In the present scandalous laxity of the law
towards tenants, you've cost me a matter of pounds--not to mention
six months' delay, which means money lost--to eject you. You, that
owe me six pounds rent! It's likely I'd let you another house--even
if I had one!"

"Even if you had the will, 'twouldn' be right. I understand that,
sir. Six young men, as I know, waitin' to marry and unable, because
the visitors snap up cottage after cottage for summer residences,
an'll pay you fancy prices; whereas you won't build for the likes o'
we."

"Your six young men--if six there be--" said Mr Pamphlett, "will be
best employed for some time to come in fighting for their country.
It don't pay to build cottages, I tell you."

Nicky-Nan's right hand gripped the knife in his pocket. But he
answered wearily--

"Well, anyways, sir, I don't ask to interfere with them: but only to
bide under my own shelter."

"Owing me six pounds arrears, and piling up more? And after driving
me to legal proceedings! Look here, Nanjivell. You are fumbling
something in your pocket. Is it the six pounds you owe me?"

"No, sir."

"I thought not. And if it were,