'Eh! what a spoilt darling it is. How Brunton will laugh when I tell him about yo'; Brunton's a rare one for laughin'. It's a great thing to have got such a merry man for a husband. Why! he has his joke for every one as comes into t' shop; and he'll ha' something funny to say to everything this evenin'.'
Bessy saw that Sylvia was annoyed, and, with more delicacy than her sister, she tried to turn the conversation.
'That's a pretty ribbon in thy hair, Sylvia; I'd like to have one o' t' same pattern. Feyther likes pickled walnuts stuck about t' round o' beef, Molly.'
'I know what I'm about,' replied Mrs. Brunton, with a toss of her married head.
Bessy resumed her inquiry.
'Is there any more to be had wheere that come fra', Sylvia?'
'I don't know,' replied Sylvia. 'It come fra' Foster's, and yo' can ask.'
'What might it cost?' said Betsy, fingering an end of it to test its quality.
'I can't tell,' said Sylvia, 'it were a present.'
'Niver mak' ado about t' price,' said Molly; 'I'll gi'e thee enough on 't to tie up thy hair, just like Sylvia's. Only thou hastn't such wealth o' curls as she has; it'll niver look t' same i' thy straight locks. And who might it be as give it thee, Sylvia?' asked the unscrupulous, if good-natured Molly.