turnin’ out this week,’ said I.  ’All the more reason why you should look slippy an’ get to work at once,’ says he.  Then I told him, sir,” went on ’Bert, gathering confidence from the sound of his own voice, “that I was fair sick o’ plannin’ to do Kind Actions, which was no business of anybody’s in War time, and a bad let-down after coast-watchin’.  ‘But,’ said I,”—­here he turned upon Nicky-Nan—­“’if ’tis a Kind Action for Mr Nanjivell, I’d as lief do it upon him as upon anybody:  for you might almost call him one o’ the family,’ I said.  ‘Kind Action?’ says he.  ’I don’t want you to do him no kinder action than to catch him out for a German spy.  I name no names,’ says he, ’but from information received, he’s in the Germans’ pay, an’ Mrs Polsue is ready to swear to it.’”

Nicky-Nan gripped his walking-staff and stood erect, as if to spring on Mr Pamphlett.  But of a sudden the enormity of the charge seemed to overcome him, and he passed a hand over his eyes.

“That’s the second time,” he muttered.  “An’ me, that—­God help me!—­ scarce bothered myself about its bein’ a War at all:  bein’ otherwise worried, as you’d know, sir.”  His straight appeal to his inveterate enemy had a dignity more convincing than any violent repudiation.  But Mr Pamphlett waved it aside.

“Let the boy tell his story. . . .  Well, boy, and what was your answer to the constable?”

“I told him,” said ’Bert stolidly, “to get along for a silly fat-head.  Didn’t I, now?” ’Bert appealed to the recipient of that compliment to confirm its textual accuracy.

“He did so,” corroborated Rat-it-all.  “He is right to that extent.  Which it gave me such a poor opinion of the whole Boy Scout movement that I’ve treated it thenceforth as dirt beneath my feet.  There was a time when I thought pretty tolerably of Baden-Powell.  But when it comes to fat-heads—­”

“But you see, sir,” ’Bert went on, “this put me in mind that I’d seen Rat-it-all for two days past behavin’ very silly behind walls an’ fuzz-bushes, an’ ‘most always in the wake o’ Nicky-Nan—­of Mr Nanjivell, I mean:  which I’d set it down that it was a game between ‘em, an’ Mr Nanjivell just lendin’ himself for practice, havin’ time on his hands.  First along I’d a mind to join in an’ read the man one or two Practical Hints out o’ the sixpenny book; for worse shadowin’ you couldn’ see.  But when it turned out he was doin’ it in earnest against Mr Nanjivell I allowed as I’d give him a taste o’ the real article, which is what they call ‘Scoutin’ for Scouts’ in the Advanced Course; whereby he called on Mr Gilbert here, yesterday afternoon; an’ Mr Gilbert’s back parlour window bein’ open because o’ the hot weather, and me bein’ behind the water-butt at the corner—­”

“You tarnation imp!” exclaimed the builder.

“Which,” continued ‘Bert stolidly, “he was askin’ if he reckoned by chance th’ Old Doctor’s House had any secret hidin’ places, an’ would he oblige the landlord Mr Pamphlett by comin’ along to-morrow an’ bringin’ a hammer?  Which I went straight home an’ borryed mother’s, an’—­an’—­”