"He's not bad," murmured Miss Coxen.
"I don't say much for Mr. Groates. It wasn't pretty of him to come and set up an opposition shop to Mr. Mokes, after all these years and years that Mokes has had everything his own way. But I suppose Mr. Groates has got to make his way in life; and seven children aren't so easily provided for as two. And I know one thing,—though I wouldn't say it to everybody,—I know Groates' cotton is ever so much better than Mokes'. I've done nothing but snap my cotton every other minute. It's that reel from Mokes, you know."
Miss Coxen slowly swallowed the bait. She looked up at Miss Sophy, then at the shop opposite. "Well, I don't mind," she said. "If you want a breath of air, Sophy, and don't feel afraid of the wind, I shouldn't mind a reel of No. 36 and a reel of No. 30 from opposite. It's uncommonly good cotton Groates supplies, almost as good as we get from London. And Mr. Mokes couldn't expect us to go so far as to his shop in such a wind."
At this moment, as if to lend additional weight to her words, the small and not very tidy girl, who acted as their maid-of-all-work, burst into the room.
"O mum!—" with eyes and mouth equally wide—"O mum! Only to think!"
"Do you know what is the matter, Susanna?" asked Miss Coxen, retaining her self-control, while Miss Sophy gasped audibly.
"O mum, it's a ship on the rocks, and the sailors all drownded—every one of 'em drownded. And the boat what went out 's got turned top side down, and every man jack of 'em's drownded too. And young Groates is one of 'em."
"You shouldn't say 'every man jack,' Susanna. It's a foolish expression." Then Miss Coxen looked at Miss Sophy. "Dear me, how melancholy."
"You are quite sure, Susanna?" panted Miss Sophy.
"The doctor's been sent for all of a hurry, mum; and he 've gone down to the Point. But Tim, he says it's no manner of good. And all the bodies is laid in a row like, and every one of 'em dead, every man jack of 'em, Tim says."