One afternoon in June—it was June now, for it took him a long time to arrive at this point in his mental struggle—he went into Fairford to buy himself some new shirts; his old ones had gone beyond even his not unskilful repairs. There was a good shop in High Fairford. Price's, and to that shop he betook himself. The young man at the shirt counter told him that he had not a shirt of the particular size he asked for in the house, but that there were a number actually in hand, and if he would sit down and wait a few minutes, one of the workwomen had promised him four that very day, "and she is always punctual," concluded the young man.
Not caring to return next day, Ralph took a seat and waited. Presently a girl—a child rather, though there was a staid, responsible air about her that was wondrous womanly—came quickly up the shop, and laying a parcel on the counter, said to the young shopman,—
"Please, sir, I have brought home the four shirts."
"I told you she was punctual, Mr. Trulock!" said the shopman.
"Why, you don't mean to say that this child is one of your workers!" said Ralph.
"And a very handy worker too! No need to look over these shirts—there's never any scamped stitches in Miss Garland's work," added the young man pleasantly, as he opened the parcel and took out the four shirts. They were wonderfully well-made—you must remember that Ralph's trade had made him a good judge of needlework—every part was as well done as the girl could do it, the button-holes were well worked, and the buttons conscientiously sewed on. It was all so clean, too. Ralph conceived a good opinion of the girl at once. He bought the shirts, and paid for them: he saw the girl cast a quick glance upon the sixteen shillings he laid down, and give her head a little shake. She was paid for her work at once—three shillings. Ralph lingered near the door: something in the girl's face pleased and yet puzzled him, and he wanted to see more of her. She came out in a moment, but was passing him without notice, when he said to her,—
"Do you get only ninepence a piece for making these shirts?"
"That is all," she answered with a sigh; "but, sir, it is better than nothing."
"How long does it take you to make one?" he asked.
"One whole day and most of another. Now I have got petticoats to make—with braid on them; like doing that, I get on quicker."