'Bell,' said he, gruffly, 'what's that old cat hinting at?'
'What about?' asked Bell, tossing her head till all her ornaments jingled, and wiping the counter furiously.
'About you! She don't think I should trust you.'
'What right has she to talk about me, I'd like to know!' cried Bell, getting as red as a peony. 'I've never done anything that anyone can say a word against me.'
'Who said you had?' snapped her father; 'but that old cat hints.'
'Let her keep her hints to herself, then. Because I'm young and good-looking she wants to take my character away. Nasty old puss that she is!'
'That's just it, my gal. You're too young and good-looking to escape folks' talking; and I hear that young Mr Pendle comes round when I'm away.'
'Who says he doesn't, father? It's to see mother; he's a parson, ain't he?'
'Yes! and he's gentry too. I won't have him paying attention to you.'
'You'd better wait till he does,' flashed out Bell. 'I can take care of myself, I hope.'