"Well, if you must know, I'm kissin' goodnight to 'Bert here.
They've started him upon coast-watchin', and he's given this beat
till ten-thirty, from the watch-house half-way to the Cove.
I shouldn' wonder if he broke his neck."
"No fear," put in 'Bert, proudly exhibiting and flashing a cheap electric torch. "They gave me this at St Martin's—and in less than an hour the moon'll be up."
"But the paper says there be so many spies about—eh, Mr Nanjivell?"
"Damme," groaned Nicky-Nan, "I should think there were! Well, if there's military work afoot, at this rate, I'd better clear. —Unless 'Bert would like me to stay here an' chat with 'en for company."
"We ben't allowed to talk—not when on duty," declared young 'Bert stoutly.
"Then kiss your brother, Missy, an' we'll trundle-ways home."
CHAPTER XIII.
FIRST AID.
"I hope, Mary-Martha," said Miss Oliver, pausing half-way up the hill and panting, "that, whatever happens, you will take a proper stand."
"You are short of breath. You should take more exercise." Mrs Polsue eyed her severely. "When an unmarried woman gets to your time of life, she's apt to think that everything can be got over with Fruit Salts and an occasional dose of Somebody's Emulsion. Whereas it can't. I take a mile walk up the valley and back every day of my life."