l the more because she never allowed to her last breath
that the woman's shimmy had been torn at all. Well, so long!"

Nicky-Nan carried the letter indoors to his small, dark sitting-room,
and there spelled it through painfully, holding the paper close up to
the window-pane. It ran:--

Sunday, 2/8/14.
Mr N. Nanjivell.

Sir,--As an inhabitant of Polpier, born in the town and anxious
for its good name, besides being a ratepayer and one that pays
taxes to His Majesty, I was naterally concerned to-day at your
not taking your place along with the other men that went off to
fight for their country. I am given to understand that you were
served with a paper, same as the rest, and the Customs Officer
was put out by your not going. I don't wonder at it. Such want
of pluck.

Its no good your saying you are not Abel. If you are Abel to be
a Reservist and _draw pay_, you are Abel to Fight thats how I
look at it. I would let you to know the Public doesnt pay money
for gamey legs that go about taking all they can get until the
Pinch comes.

Theres a good many things want looking into in Polpier, It has
reached me that until the present sistem came in and put a stop
to it you drew pay for years for drills that you never atended.

This is a time when as Lord Nelson said England expects every
Man to Do his Duty. I think so bad of your case that I am
writing by same post to the Custom House at Troy about it.
So I warn you as
A Well-Wisher.

Nicky-Nan read this amiable missive through, and re-read it almost to
the end before realising the menace of it. At the first perusal his
mind was engaged with the mechanical task of deciphering the script
and with speculating on its authorship. . . . He came to the end with
no full grasp of the purport.

His wits were dulled, too, being preoccupied--in spite of
Lippity-Libby--with suspicions of Mr Pamphlett. He recognised the
hand of an enemy; and though conscious of possessing few friends in
the world (none, maybe--he did not care how many or how few, anyway),
he was aware of one only enemy--Pamphlett. He held this tenement
which Pamphlett openly coveted: but what besides had he that any one
could envy? Who else could wish him worse off than he was?
His broken past, his present poverty and daily men