"There's your change, Alannah," called out Mrs. Clancy across the counter, "and mind ye, it will be elevenpence next week."
Helen smiled agreeably, nodded her head, and pocketed the silver. Sally would surely be able to do battle for herself by the following market day! After a considerable struggle she made her way out of the crowd, and once more ascended the market-cart. So far so good—the butter and eggs were off her mind—now for Dooley's, and the vegetables. But, unluckily, the Master—who was, as we know, an animal of great strength of character—had determined to trot off to his usual station, near the Courthouse. Of course Helen could please herself about Dooley's, but he and the cart went to their accustomed post. The habits of years were not to be thus trifled with! This clause had not been in the bond. Helen had meant to have got rid of the fruit and vegetables (even at a sacrifice) and to have immediately afterwards set her face towards home—but to stand and sell her wares from the cart in the open market, was an ordeal that she had never anticipated. However, as she and the Master came together, together they were bound to return, and her arrangements were solely dependent on his good pleasure (a somewhat humbling reflection). For years he had been accustomed to stand for three hours per week in Terryscreen Market Square, just behind the Courthouse, and to vary the programme to-day was an idea that never once entered his grizzled head. His lady driver, who had discovered that his mouth was all that Sally had prophesied (and more), meekly abandoned herself to her fate, and having loosened her tyrant's bit, and administered a "lock of hay," set to work to lay out her wares, and arrange her stall to the best of her ability. As she gazed around upon the crowd, and listened to the confused buzz of many brogues, her head failed her, her boasted confidence seemed to be oozing away at the tips of her fingers. Supposing she lost her head, supposing she was discovered? But who was to discover her? argued common sense; and if she had passed in Clancy's shop, surely she would pass here. She was doing no harm, quite the reverse; and when she thought of Dido's difficulties, and Dido's tears, and those three shillings lying in her desk, and looked round on her fine stock of garden produce, capable of being turned into silver coin of the realm, she recovered herself, and by the time she had sold her first head of cabbage, her courage and sang-froid were completely restored!
CHAPTER XXXIX.
"THE MARKET GIRL."
"We met—'twas in a crowd."—Haynes Bayley.
Helen soon discovered that the Crowmore cart had quite an established reputation; her peas, and beans, strawberries and asparagus commanded a brisk sale. Customers came flocking round her, and she actually ventured to retort to some of their sallies with mild replies in kind.
"Shure, we are all fighting and killing one another to dale with you!" said a sturdy old farmer, vigorously elbowing his way to the front. "Aren't we for all the world like flies round a pot of honey! 'Tis yourself has the jewels of eyes, avick! But why do ye wear gloves?"
"To keep me hands like a lady's, to be sure," she retorted, promptly.
"Oh! well, as long as ye don't cover up your face, I don't care a thraneen! And what are ye asking for the white cabbage?" making an abrupt descent from blarney to business.