an, setting his jaw.

"Don't be a fool. I let slip in my haste that I don't reckon the
thing malignant; and I don't--as yet. But it easily may be; and
anyhow you're going to have trouble with it."

"I've had trouble enough with it already. But, mortal or not, I
ben't goin' to stir out o' Polpier nor out o' this house. . . .
Doctor, don't you ask it!" he wound up, as with a cry extorted by
pain.

"Why, man, what are you afraid of? An operation for _that_, what is
it? A whiff of chloroform--and in a week or so--"

"But--," interrupted Nicky-Nan sharply, and again recollected
himself. "To tell 'ee the truth, Doctor--that's to say, if what
passes between patient an' doctor goes no farther--"

"That's all right. I'm secret as houses."

"To tell 'ee the truth, then, there's a particular reason why I don't
want to leave Polpier--not just for the present."

Dr Mant stared at him. "You are going to tell me that reason?"

But Nicky-Nan shook his head. "I'd rather not say," he confessed
lamely.

Still Dr Mant stared. "Look here, Nanjivell. You've a beast of a
lump on your leg, and I can certify at once that it unfits you for
service. You couldn't even crawl up a ladder aboard ship, let alone
work a gun. But the people over at Troy have asked the question;
and, what is more, it sticks in my head that, two days ago, I got a
letter about you--an anonymous letter, suggesting that you were just
a malingerer, who nursed an ailment rather than go to the War and
take your chance with the others. As a rule I put that kind of
letter in the fire, and so I did with this one. As a rule, also, I
put it right out of my head. . . . But I've a conscience, in these
times; and if I thought you to be nursing a trouble which I pretty
well know to be curable, just to avoid your honest share in this
War--" Dr Mant paused.

"Cuss the War!" said Nicky-Nan wearily. "It looks to me as if
everybody was possessed with it."

Dr Mant still gazed at him curiously, then whipped about with a
sudden "Hey! What's _that?_"

_That_ was the voice of Mrs Penhaligon uplifted without, voluble and
frenzied: and the Doctor hurried forth, Nicky-Nan hobbling after, to
find Mrs Penhaligon waving her arms like a windmill's, and Mrs
Polsue, as before the blast of them, flat-backed against the wall of
the passage.

"--And there you'll stay," Mrs Penhaligon threatened, "while I teach
your proud flesh! S'pose now I ventured on _you_, as yo