Cornwall (England : County) -- Fiction; Treasure troves -- Fiction; World War, 1914-1918 -- England -- Fiction
"But, my good man--since you say that you have taken Mr Hambly into
your confidence--"
"Well, sir?"
"Oh, well--you will be back, doubtless, in a few days' time; and then
we can talk. This--this is very--er--honest of you."
"It may be. As for bein' back in a few days' time, if the War should
be over in a few days' time you may expect me. I hope it won't.
God forgive me for sayin' so, but I'll be more comfortable
there. . . . Ay, d'ee hear me, Mr Pamphlett? More _comfortable_ than
here amidst women's tongues an' clerkly men's devices, an', what's
worse, even the set-up whisperin' o' children. God forgive 'em an'
forgive _you!_ I'm a Polpier man, an' the last o' my stock; but I'll
come back, if at all, to finish in Polpier with credit."
"This represents a considerable sum of money," said Mr Pamphlett,
conning the paper, and with a note, which he could not suppress, of
elation in his voice.
"Ay; does it not?" said Nicky-Nan scornfully. "Well, I leave 'ee at
home, to prove how honest you can contrive to be with it.
D'ee _see?_ . . . There's boys, like your nephew, young Obed Pearce,
as goes to fight for their conscience; an' there's boys, like young
Seth Minards, as goes to fight despite their conscience; but for me,
that am growin' elderly, I go, maybe with a touch o' the old country,
in contempt o' my kind."
Mr Pamphlett had seated himself at the table, and with his golden
pencil-holder was at work on the paper making calculations.
Nicky-Nan, going out, turned in the doorway and lifted his hand to
the old remembered naval salute.
A couple of hours later, having given them a two-miles' lift on the
way, Nicky-Nan at the cross-roads dropped young Seth and young Obed
to take their way to the inland barracks. He was for the coast-road,
with the hospital and the operating-theatre at the end of it.
If Heaven willed, he might eventually be of some service on the heave
of the sea, as they in their youth and their strength assuredly would
be in the land campaign.
As his hired trap jolted on, at a twist of the road before it bore
straight-eastwardly, he caught sight of their diminishing figures
side by side and already a goodish way off on a rise of the inland
road. It did not occur to them to turn on the chance of sighting him
and waving a hand. The two were comrades already, sharing talk, on
this their first stage towards the battlefields of Flanders.
FINIS.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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