will be gone directly.'

Bess dragged Martha by the arm to the top of the cinder-hill, where they
could see the pit-girls clustering round the packman in the lane. The
black linen wrapper in which his pack was carried was stretched along
the hedge, and upon it was spread a great show of bright-coloured shawls
and dresses, and the girls were flitting from one to another, closely
examining their quality; while Andrew's wife walked up and down,
exhibiting each shawl by turns upon her shoulders. The temptation was too
strong for Martha; she wiped the soap-suds from her arms upon her apron,
and ran as eagerly down to the lane as Black Bess herself.

'Eh! here's a clean, tight lass for you!' cried Andrew, comparing Martha
with the begrimed pit-girls about him. 'The best shawl in my pack isn't
good enough for you, my dear. Pick and choose. Just make your own choice,
and I'll accommodate you about the price.'

'I've got no money,' said Martha.

'Oh, you and me'll not quarrel about money,' replied Andrew; 'you make
your choice, and I'll wait your time. I'm coming my rounds pretty
regular, and you can put up a shilling or two agen I come, without
letting on to father. But maybe you're married, my dear?'

'No,' she answered, blushing.

'It's not far off, I'll be bound,' he continued, 'and with a shawl like
this, now, you'd look like a full-blown rose. Come, I'll not be hard upon
you, as it's the first time you've dealt with me. That shawl's worth ten
shillings if it's worth a farthing, and I'll let you have it for seven