“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.