“It isna worth while tellin’ ye. God alone understands quarrelsome women, but if you go to the kippering-shed, there will be trouble—and trouble for me, Christine—for Jessy is in wi’ them.”
“I will do as you tell me, Norman. Hae the fish ready at six o’clock.”
Then Norman went away, and Christine put back in its place the kippering suit, and took out her very prettiest selling suit. For her mourning dress touched only her domestic and social life, her business had its own dress, and the fisher dress was part of the business. She had no sense of humiliation in assuming it, nor yet in the selling of the fish. She had liked very well the little gossip with known householders, and had not been offended by the compliments she received from strangers and passersby. The first morning of this new season was really a little triumph. All her old friends wanted to hear about Margot’s sickness and death, and when her basket was empty, she sent Willie home and stayed with an old friend of her mother’s, and had a cup of tea and a fried herring with her.
They had much to talk about, and Christine resolved to stay with her until the mail should come in, which would be about eleven o’clock. Then if 318 there was any letter for her, she could get it at once. “The Domine is aye thoughtless anent the mail,” she reflected, and then with a little laugh added, “he hasna any love letters coming, or he would be thinking on it.”
She received two letters. One was a letter from Cluny, mailed at Moville, Ireland. The other was from Blackwood’s Publishing House, offering her a hundred and fifty pounds advance, and ten per cent royalty for her novel, or, if she preferred it, three hundred and fifty pounds for all rights. She went to the Domine with this letter, and he advised her to accept three hundred and fifty pounds for all rights. “You will be requiring bride-dresses, and house-napery of many kinds,” he said, “and, my dear girl, God has sent you this check. He knew you would have need of these things. You ought to be very happy in this thought.”
“I am, Sir. You know how ‘just enough’ has been my daily bread; and I was worrying a little about wedding garments, and expenses.”
“Well, Christine, of all life’s fare, God’s daily bread is best. Answer your letter here, and I will mail it for you. In a few days you will have plenty of money. Go at once, and put it in the bank.”
“I will, Sir. And when I get home, I will begin another book at once.”
“Go with the fish, until you have the money in your hand. Things unforeseen might happen to delay payment. Good Fortune does not like us to 319 be too sure of her. I have seen her change her mind in that case.”
“You are always right, Sir. I will do as you say.”