“But we haven’t half an hour to get ready in!” he pleaded.
“We must get ready in less time!” cried Mrs. Legg, turning to run up the stairs that led from one corner of the back room.
“What’ll I do about the shop?” called John in dismay.
“Leave it to the boy a day or two,” replied Julia from the head of the stairs.
“Everything will go to rack and ruin!” cried the greengrocer.
“John Legg!” demanded his wife, rushing down the stairs fully equipped for the journey with bonnet and big shawl, an umbrella and bag in hand—“do you mean for the sake of a paltry, two-penny-ha’-penny shop, not worth fifty pounds, to risk an immense fortune, that will make you a millionaire, or a silver or a gold king, or a brown answer (bonanza?), or something of the sort?”
“‘A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,’ my dear,” said the man.
“Jedehiah Judkins, come here and bring your master’s overcoat! And, Jed, do you mind the shop well while we are gone, and get Widow Willet’s Bob to come and help you, and I’ll pay him and give you half a sovereign if we find all right when we come back Saturday night,” said Mrs. Legg.
The boy, who had just come in with his empty basket from delivering vegetables about the town, hastened with big eyes into the back room to obey his mistress’ orders.
John Legg submitted. He always did. Julia went about fastening doors and windows, and lastly raking out and covering up the fire.