“Where are we both come to? That’s more to th’ purpose.”
“I’m banished my country, that’s all I know,” said Rachel, blankly. “I’m glad to see thee, schuzheaw.” (Note 2.)
“Dost thou mean to carry yon for th’ rest o’ thy life?” demanded Charity, laying hands on the carpet-bag. “Come, wake up, lass, and look sharp, for there’ll be some supper wanted.”
A very expressive shake of Rachel’s head was the response. But she set down the bundle, and began to unfasten her sleeves for work. Sleeves were not then stitched to the gown, but merely hooked or buttoned in, and were therefore easily laid aside when needful.
“What’s the price o’ eggs this road on?” asked she.
“Nought. We ’n getten th’ hens to lay ’em. Down i’ th’ market they’re four a penny.”
“Eggs—four a penny!” ejaculated the horrified cook.
“Ay—they’re a bonnie price, aren’t they? Ten to a dozen the penny at Keswick. Chickens be twopence and threepence apiece.”
Rachel turned and faced her colleague with a solemn air. “Charity Ashworth, wilt thou tell me what we’ve come here for?”
“‘To do our duty in that state of life to which it shall please God to call us,’” said Charity, sturdily. “There’s twenty hens i’ yon yard at th’ end o’ th’ garden, and two cows i’ th’ shippen, and three black pigs i’ th’ sty,—Mistress Joyce ordered ’em—and two pairs o’ hands, and two brains, and two hearts, and the grace o’ God: and if thou wants aught more, thou’lt have to ask Him for it. So now let’s be sharp and see to th’ supper.”