things I have had in, this many a day; and they be the wide width. Won't
you take some of it for a gownd?' 'No,' says she, 'I'm set up for cotton
gownds.' 'Why not buy a bit of it for a apron or two?' I said.
'Nothing's cleaner than them lavender prints for morning aprons, and
they saves the white.' So she looked at it for a minute, and then she
said I might cut her off a couple o' yards of the light, and send it up
with the other things. Well, sir, Sally Green went away with her
buttons, and I took down the light print, thinking I'd cut off the two
yards at once. Just then, Susan Peckaby comes in for some gray worsted,
and she falls right in love with the print. 'I'll have a gownd of that,'
says she, 'and I'll take it now.' In course, sir, I was only too glad to
sell it to her, for, like Rachel, she's good pay; but when I come to
measure it, there was barely nine yards left, which is what Susan
Peckaby takes for a gownd, being as tall as a maypole. So I was in a
mess; for I couldn't take and sell it all, over Rachel's head, having
offered it to her. 'Perhaps she wouldn't mind having her aprons off the
dark,' says Susan Peckaby; 'it don't matter what colour aprons is
of--they're not like gownds.' And then we agreed that I should send Dan
up here at once to ask her, and Susan Peckaby--who seemed mighty eager
to have the print--said she'd wait till he come back. And I cut off the
white Irish, and wrapped it up with the tape and things, and sent him."

"Rachel Frost had left your shop, then?"

"She left it, sir, when she told me she'd have some of the lavender
print. She didn't stay another minute."

Robin Frost lifted his head again. "She said she was going to stop at
your place for a bit of a gossip, Mother Duff."