"Fiddlestick!" said 'Beida with a sigh of relief. "Now I know you're gassin'. . . . Just now you frightened me with your talk of executions, which is what they do to a man when he's murdered some person: and o' course if Nicky--if Mr Nanjivell had been doin' anything o' _that_ sort--which he hasn', o' course. . . . But when you go on pretendin' as Rat-it-all can lock _me_ up, why then I see your game. Tryin' to frighten me, you are, because I'm small." "If you were a child of mine," threatened Mr Pamphlett, very red in the gills, "do you know what I'd do to you?" "No," replied 'Beida; "I can't think. . . . But I reckon 'twould be something pretty mean. Oh, I'm sick an' tired of the gentry!--if you call yourself gentry. First of all you turn Father an' Mother out to find a new home. An' then, as if that wasn' enough, you must come nosin' in after Mr Nanjivell's small savin's. . . . Gentry!" she swung round upon Builder Gilbert. "Here, Mr Gilbert, you're neither gentry nor perlice. When I tell you about Miss Charity Oliver, that calls herself a lady! What must _she_ do but, happenin' on 'Biades-- that's my younger brother, an' scarce turned four--outside o' Mrs Pengelly's, with a bit of gold money in his hand that Mr Nanjivell gave to him in a moment o' weakness,--what must she do (an' callin' herself a lady, no doubt, all the while) but palm off two bright coppers on him for a swap? . . . That's a _fact_," 'Beida wound up, dabbing the towel gently, but with an appearance of force, against Nicky-Nan's temple, "for I got it out o' the child's own mouth, an' work enough it was. That's your gentry!" "Hey?" Nicky-Nan pushed her hand aside. "What's this you're tellin', now?" "Ask _him!_" she answered, nodding towards Mr Pamphlett. "He knows all about it, an' 'tis no use for him to pretend he don't." "_Me_ give your small brother--?" began Nicky, but broke off with a groan and felt his brow again. "Oh, where's the head or tail to this? Where's the _sense?_ . . . Give me my money--that's all I ask. Stop talkin' all of 'ee, an' fetch me what you've stole, between 'ee, an' leave me alone!" Mr Pamphlett shifted his ground. "You're right, Nanjivell. What's become of your money?--that's the main point, eh?" "O' course 'tis the main point," growled Nicky. "Though I'm damned if I see how it consarns _you_." "Maybe I can enlighten you by-and-by. For the present you want to know what has become of the money: and I've a strong suspicion this child can tell us, if she chooses to confess. If not--" he raised a minatory forefinger and shook it at 'Beida--"well, it's fortunate I brought the constable, who will know how to act." "Will I?" said Rat-it-all, scratching his head. "No, you won't," 'Beida answered him stoutly, and turned again to Nicky-Nan. "Mr Nanjivell," she pleaded, "tell me--didn't you find these three turnin' your room inside out?" "'Course I did." Nicky-Nan cast a malignant glance around.