But Cæsar's emotions were walled in by his pietistical views. “Every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or land, for My name's sake, shall receive an hundredfold,” said Cæsar, with a cast of his eye towards Black Tom. “Well, if I ever!” said Nancy. “The husband that wanted the like of that from me now.... A hundredfold, indeed! No, not for a hundred hundredfolds, the nasty dirt.” “Don't he turning up your nose, woman, but call your master,” said Cæsar. “It's more than some ones need do, then, and I won't call my master, neither--no, thank you,” said Nancy. “I've something to tell him, and I've come, too, for to do it,” said Cæsar. “The devil came farther than ever you did, and it was only a lie he was bringing for all that,” said Nancy. “Hould your tongue, Nancy Cain,” said Cæsar, “and take that Popish thing off the child's head.” It was the scarlet hood. “Pity the money that's wasted on the like wasn't given to the poor.” “I've heard something the same before, Cæsar Cregeen,” said Nancy. “It was Judas Iscariot was saying it first, and you're just thieving it from a thief.” “Chut!” cried Cæsar, goaded by the laughter of Black Tom. “I'll call the man myself. Peter Quilliam!” and he made for the staircase door. “Stand back,” cried Nancy, holding the child like a pillow over one of her arms, and lifting the other threateningly. “Aw, you'll never be raising your hand to the man of God, woman,” giggled Black Tom. “Won't I, though?” said Nancy grimly, “or the man of the devil either,” she added, flashing at himself. “The woman's not to trust, sir,” snuffled the constable. “She's only an infidel, anyway. I've heard tell of her saying she didn't believe the whale swallowed Jonah.” “That's the diff'rance between us, then,” said Nancy; “for there's some of you Manx ones would believe if Jonah swallowed the whale.” The staircase door opened at the back of Nancy, and Pete stepped into the room. “What's this, friends?” he asked, in a careworn voice. Cæsar stepped forward with a yellow envelope in his hand. “What's _that_, sir?” he answered. Pete took the envelope and opened it. “That's your letter back to you through the dead letter office, isn't it?” said Cæsar. “Well?” said Pete. “There's nobody of that name in that place, is there!” said Cæsar. “Well?” said Pete again. “Letters from England don't come through Peel, but your first letter had the Peel postmark, hadn't it?” “Well?” “Parcels from England don't come through Port St. Mary, but your parcel was stamped in Port St. Mary, wasn't it?” “Anything else?” “The handwriting inside the letter wasn't your own handwriting, was it? The address on the outside of the parcel wasn't your own address--no?” “Is that all?” “Enough to be going on, I'm thinking.” “What about Uncle Joe?” said Black Tom, with another giggle.