l, here, chooses to
play father to the fatherless an' cover up the sins of the children
that go an' break his parlour windows afore my very eyes, well,
'tisn't for me to say more than I hope no harm'll come of it."

She was preparing to say more. If she said more, Nicky-Nan did not
hear it. For at this moment the three Penhaligon children broke in
at the porch, burst past Mrs Climoe, and clung to their mother,
clamouring for dinner.

In the hubbub Nicky-Nan meanly slipped back to his den, closed the
door, and dragged two chairs against it. Then he took a worn
tea-tray and propped it against the window, blocking the broken
panes. It seemed to him that the world had suddenly grown full of
eyes, peering upon him from every side.

CHAPTER X.

THE VICAR'S MISGIVINGS.

Mrs Steele, the Vicar's wife--a refined, shy little woman, somewhat
austere in self-discipline and her own devotional exercises, but
incapable of harsh judgment upon any other living soul--had spent
Bank Holiday in writing letters and addressing them (from a list
drawn up in long consultation with her husband) to "women-workers" of
all denominations in the parish, inviting them to meet in the
Vicarage drawing-room at 3.30 P.M. on Wednesday, to discuss "what
steps (if any) could be taken to form sewing-parties, ambulance
classes, &c.," and later to partake of afternoon tea.

The list was a depressing one, and not only because it included the
names of Mrs Polsue and Miss Oliver. "It makes my heart sink," Mrs
Steele confessed. "I hadn't realised till now, dear, how lonely we
are--after five years, too--in this parish. Three out of every four
are Nonconformists. It seems absurd, my taking the chair," she added
wistfully. "Most likely they will wonder--even if they don't ask
outright--what business I have to be showing the lead in this way."

The Vicar kissed his wife. "Let them wonder. And if they ask--but
they won't, being west-country and well-mannered--I shall be here to
answer."

"I wish you would answer them before they start to ask. That would
be running no risks. A few words from you, just to explain and put
them at their ease--"

He laughed. "Cunning woman!" said he, addressing an invisible
audience. "She means, 'to put _her_ at her ease,' by my taking over
the few well-chosen remarks expected of the chairwoman. . . .
My dear, I know you will be horribly nervous, and it would be easy
enough for me to do the talking. But I