e window across the stream belonged to Mrs Climoe's
wash-kitchen. Again he cursed the luck that had interposed Bank
Holiday and adjourned the washing operations of Polpier.

But he must defend himself: for Mrs Climoe never promised anything
which--if it happened to be unpleasant--she did not punctually
perform. With swift cunning he snatched up his parcel of staples and
screws, caught at a poker, and made a leap for the door.

Here luck aided him. Mrs Penhaligon had finished her scrubbing and
carried her pail out to the porch. There she met Mrs Climoe's first
accost, and it surprised her beyond measure: for her children were
down upon the Quay playing. By rights they should have returned half
an hour before: it was, indeed, close upon dinner-time. But she had
been in the passage for a whole hour, with just an interval now and
then for a dive into the kitchen to see how the pasties were cooking.
She felt morally sure that they could not have returned without her
knowing it. They usually made her so exceedingly well aware of their
return.

Under Mrs Climoe's onslaught of accusation she wheeled about in
bewilderment, at the sound of hammering, to perceive Nicky-Nan at the
end of the passage, driving a staple into his doorpost with blows of
a poker.

"There now! What did I tell you?" persisted Mrs Climoe, attempting
to thrust herself past.

"This is my house," retorted Mrs Penhaligon, bravely heading her off.
"If my children--but I could take my oath, here afore th' Almighty--"

"You ask Mr Nanjivell! Why d'ee reckon he's puttin' a lock on his
doorway, 'nless 'tis to prevent what I'm tellin' you from happenin'
again?"

Mrs Penhaligon stared about her. She went to the kitchen, she passed
through the kitchen to the inner room. . . . No children! She came
down the passage and close behind Nicky-Nan (who continued to hammer
hypocritically), she gazed up the stairway and called "'Bert!"
"'Beida!" "You naughty children--come down this moment!" Still no
answer.

She turned upon Nicky-Nan. "If they're really here and have been
breakin' your glass--"

"You never heard no complaint from _me_, ma'am," answered Nicky-Nan,
still intent on fixing his staple.

"Oh!" interposed Mrs Climoe viciously, "if you two are colleaguin'
already to hush something up, the affair lies between you, of course.
It seems odd to me, Maria Penhaligon, an' your proper husband not two
days gone to the wars. But if Nicholas Nanjivel