Nicky-Nan swung about on her: but she rested a hand on either hip and was continuing. "'Naybours,' you said, sir? 'Naybours'? Him accused by public talk for a German spy--" "Hush, Mrs Climoe! Of all the Commandments, ma'am, the one most in lack of observance hereabouts, to my observation, is that which forbids bearing false witness against a neighbour. To a charitable mind that includes hasty witness." "There's another, unless I disremember," snapped Mrs Climoe, "that forbids 'ee to covet your naybour's wife." While Mr Hambly sought for a gentle reproof for this, Mrs Penhaligon, pale of face, rested a hand against her gate-post, and said she very gently but in a white scorn-- "What is this talk of naybours, quarrelin' or comfortin' or succourin' or bearin' witness? There be naybours, an'"--she pointed a finger at Mrs Climoe--"there be livers-by. Now stroll along, the lot of 'ee, and annoy somebody else that lives unprotected!" She said it so quietly and decisively, standing motionless, that Lippity-Libby, coming around the corner of the lane with paste-pot and brush, and with a roll of bills tucked in his armpit, mistook the group for a chance collection of cheerful gossips. He drew up, lowered his pail, and began in a business-like way to slap paste upon the upper flap of a loft-door across the way, chatting the while over his shoulder. "Good evenin', naybours! Now what (says you to yourselves) might I be carryin' here under my arm in the cool o' the day. Is it a Bye-Law? No, it is not a Bye-Law. Or is it a Tender? No, it is not a Tender. Or is it a Bankrup' Stock, or a Primrose Feet, or at the worst a Wesleyan Anniversary? Or peradventure is it a Circus? . . . Sold again! 'Tis a Recruitin' Meetin', an' for Saturday." Having slapped on the paste, he unfolded a bill and eyed it critically. "'YOUR KING AND COUNTRY WANT YOU.'--That's pretty good for Polpier, eh? Flatterin', one might almost say." His cheerfulness held the group with their passions arrested. Nicky-Nan turned about and stared at the placard as Lippity-Libby smoothed it over the paste, whistling. At that moment Un' Benny Rowett, hands in trouser-pockets, came dandering along. He, too, taking the geniality of every one for granted, halted, spread his legs wide and conned the announcement. "Oh!" said he after a pause, wheeling about. "Still harpin' on they Germans? Well, Mr Hambly, sir, I don't know how it strikes you, but I'm sick an' tired of them dismal blackguards." "I can't bear it," said Mrs Steele, walking to and fro in her drawing-room. She ceased wringing her handkerchief, and came to a halt confronting the Vicar, who stood moodily leaning an arm on the mantelshelf. "I believe," he answered after a pause, "you would find it worse to bear in a month or so if I hadn't offered." "Why didn't you consult me?" "I wrote to the Bishop--" "The 'Bishop!' Well . . . what did _he_ advise?"