As Aubrey turned to reply, his eyes fell on Hans, coming home from the mercer’s. His face changed in a minute: but Hans came forward with his hand held out as cordially as usual, and a look of real pleasure in his eyes.
“Good even, Aubrey; I am glad to see you,” said he.
“Ay, see him, do!” cried Temperance, before Aubrey could answer; and he only gave his hand in silence. “Look at him, Hans! Didst ever behold such a pair of pantofles? Five pounds twelve shillings and sixpence! How much cost thine?”
“Mine be not so brave as these,” replied Hans, smiling. “My Lord Oxford’s squire must needs wear better raiment than a silkman’s apprentice, Mrs Murthwaite.”
“Five pounds twelve shillings and sixpence!” persisted she.
“Come, now, Aunt Temperance! They cost not the half,” said Aubrey.
“Who didst thou cheat out of them, then?” asked she.
“I bought them,” he answered, laughing, “of a young noble that had borne them but twice, and was ill content with the cut and colour of them.”
“He’ll come to no good,” sternly pronounced Aunt Temperance.
“You made a good bargain,” said Hans. “That velvet cost full a pound the yard, I should say.”