A bird of passage

by B. M. Croker

"She's hurt her foot," replied her substitute, in a voice that was scarcely above a whisper.

"And so you are doing her work?"

"Just for the time, Mrs. Clancy."

"From this part of the country, dear?"

"No; a good bit beyant."

"Oh, well,"—tasting the butter with her finger and glancing at her sharply—"butter is down, ye know. Elevenpence."

"Is it?" innocently. "I am not to go home with less than the shilling."

"Is that the way with you? Well, we'll say elevenpence halfpenny, honey!"

"No, Mrs. Clancy, mam, I really dar not do it!"

"Well, I see she has ye well schooled, and I suppose you'll just have to get it! Eighteen pounds did ye say?" now going towards the till—but being waylaid by a customer, Helen was left to wait among the crowd for a considerable time.