“You know, do you?” said her husband coolly. “Well, then, I need not to say it.”
“Now, neighbours, isn’t that too bad?” demanded Mrs Clere, as Nicholas moved away to attend to another customer. “I never was a rattle, not I. But ’tis right like men: they take in their heads that all women be talkers, and be as still as you will, they shall write you down a chatterbox. Well, now, can’t I tempt you with nought more? Stockings, or kerchiefs, or a knitted cap? Well, then, good den. I don’t so well like the look of them clouds yonder; we shall have rain afore night, take my word for it. Farewell!”
Mulberry-colour, much like that we call plum-colour or prune.
Note 2. They say, “I want to have you go,” when we should say, “I want you, to go.” Queen Elizabeth would have used the former expression.
Chapter Two.
Who took care of Cissy?
The clothier’s shop which we entered in the last chapter was in Balcon or Balkerne Lane, not far from its northern end. The house was built, as most houses then were, with the upper storey projecting beyond the lower, and with a good deal of window in proportion to the wall. The panes of glass were very small, set in lead, and of a greenish hue; and the top of the house presented two rather steeply sloped gables. Houses in that day were more picturesque than they have been for the last two hundred years, though they have shown a tendency in recent times to turn again in that direction. Over Master Clere’s door—and over every door in the street—hung a signboard, on which some sign was painted, each different from the rest, for signs then served the purpose of numbers, so that two alike in the same street would have caused confusion. As far as eye could see ran the gaily-painted boards—Blue Lion, varied by red, black, white, and golden lions; White Hart, King’s Head, Golden Hand, Vine, Wheelbarrow, Star, Cardinal’s Hat, Crosskeys, Rose, Magpie, Saracen’s Head, and Katherine Wheel. Master Nicholas Clere hung out a magpie: why, he best knew, and never told. His neighbours sarcastically said that it was because a magpie lived there, meaning Mistress Clere, who was considered a chatterbox by everybody except herself.