'I'm very well, and so is mother; feyther's got a touch of
rheumatiz, and there's a young woman getting what I want.'

She turned a little away from him when she had ended this sentence,
as if it had comprised all she could possibly have to say to him.
But he exclaimed,

'You won't know how to choose,' and, seating himself on the counter,
he swung himself over after the fashion of shop-men.

Sylvia took no notice of him, but pretended to be counting over her
money.

'What do you want, Sylvie?' asked he, at last annoyed at her
silence.

'I don't like to be called "Sylvie;" my name is Sylvia; and I'm
wanting duffle for a cloak, if you must know.'

Hester now returned, with a shop-boy helping her to drag along the
great rolls of scarlet and gray cloth.

'Not that,' said Philip, kicking the red duffle with his foot, and
speaking to the lad. 'It's the gray you want, is it not, Sylvie?' He
used the name he had had the cousin's right to call her by since her
childhood, without remembering her words on the subject not five
minutes before; but she did, and was vexed.

'Please, miss, it is the scarlet duffle I want; don't let him take