"Certainly, miss."
Mrs. Treffry fetched it, and placed it on the counter, remarking as she did so—
"It's a bit of old-fashioned china, miss, and very good, I'm told."
"What is the price?" Marigold inquired.
"A guinea, miss."
"A guinea!" in astonished accents. "Oh, then I cannot afford to buy it. I did not know it was worth so much money as that. I thought it was very pretty, and so it is, but it is far too expensive."
"You see, miss, it's like this," Mrs. Treffry explained: "that teapot belonged to an old maiden lady who lived at Boscombe some years ago. When she died her household goods were all sold by auction, and I bought that little teapot for eighteenpence, and thought I had given money enough for it too! But a few weeks ago a young gentleman came into my shop here, and asked if I could make him a cup of tea, which I did, making it in that teapot, miss. 'Hullos!' said he, as soon as he'd clapped eyes upon it, 'that's a good bit of china you've got there!' 'It's pretty ain't it?' said I. 'Pretty!' he cried out, 'why, any dealer in old china would give you a guinea for it!' That surprised me, but I didn't tell him so; instead, I said, 'You shall have it for that price, sir.' But he shook his head, saying he was a poor chap who couldn't afford to spend his money on an old-fashioned teapot like mine when a common brown earthenware one would answer his purpose as well, though he knew a bit of rare china when he saw it, and could tell what it was worth. 'Now mind you don't sell that teapot for less than a guinea!' were his parting words to me, and I made up my mind I wouldn't."
"Fancy its being so valuable!" Marigold exclaimed, her disappointment plainly visible both in her face and voice.
"I thought if I put it in the window it might catch the eye of some visitor who knew something about old china," Mrs. Treffry continued. "I must own I don't see the worth of a guinea in the teapot myself, but seeing it is worth that, I shouldn't be justified in selling it for less."
"No, no!" Marigold readily agreed.