"And they do say—" pursued Mrs. Simmons—but the advent of another customer caused her to break off. "I'll come back to you, Mrs. Davis," she said, with a nod. "Don't you hurry away." And Mary Davis waited patiently, making no protest.
A brown-skinned child, in tattered frock and curl-papers, stood gazing about her with curious eyes. "Please'm," she said, "mother wants two penn'orth of tea, please."
Two pennies dropped on the counter from the little soiled hand. Mrs. Simmons proceeded to weigh the article, and to twist up the packet. "If I was you, Janey Humphrey, I wouldn't be seen out in that trim," she said reprovingly, while so occupied. "Curl-papers in broad daylight,—and face and hands as soap and water haven't come near to for twenty-four hours past. It isn't decent nor respectable, and you'd ought to be ashamed of yourself."
"I've got to mind the baby," said Janey, in a manner of abashed self-excuse.
"That don't make no difference," said Mrs. Simmons decisively. "Nor it wouldn't if you had to mind a dozen babies. If there's time to eat there's time to wash, and I suppose you ain't too busy to eat. And if you haven't time to get your hair out of curl-papers, you'd best never put it in."
"Mother told me to, 'cause it's the school feast, and she wanted me to look 'speckrable," said Janey.
"You'd look a deal more respectable with your hair brushed plain behind your ears. I can tell you the ladies will be none the better pleased with you, for having a lot of frizzly corkscrews over your head—and you may tell your mother so, if you like. I declare I'd well-nigh forgotten it was the school feast this afternoon. Well—get along with you, child—but mind you don't come here again looking like a guy."
Betsy Simmons was counted a privileged person, in the matter of advice-giving. The widow of a sailor, childless, and alone in the world, she had held this little shop during some fifteen years past, and was known in the neighbourhood as no less kind-hearted than outspoken. She sold groceries, green-groceries, and confectioneries, and she drove a brisk trade, being content with small gains.
It was a quaint little shop, standing in the middle of the chief street of a large village, called Banks. There were other shops in the same street. Near the upper end stood a Church, with an ivy-covered square tower, and a Rectory-house and schools adjoining.
Exactly opposite the shop was to be seen a very old and worn-out house, surrounded by a small and very untidy garden. The village stretched well around and beyond it.