“The fishermen will give you a couple of stale flat-fish, to take home to your mother.”
“Well, I’ll try that,” said I, going.
“Not so fast, Jack, not so fast; if I make a penny by you one day, I suppose, to keep your custom, I must lose something by you the next. Now, I’ll give you sixpence; and how I’m to get my money back I don’t know.”
“No, Nanny,” said I, “I must have a shilling.”
“A shilling, you little cheat! I can’t give it; but what do you want? don’t you want a key to your chest, or something of that sort?”
“I’ve no chest, mother, and therefore don’t want a key.”
“But you want something out of all the pretty things in my shop; boys always fancy something.”
I laughed at the idea of “pretty things” in her shop, for it contained nothing but old iron, empty bottles, dirty rags and phials; so I told her there was nothing that I wanted.
“Well,” says she, “sit down a little, and look about you; there’s no hurry. So Mrs East has got another boy, worse luck for the parish, with six children already!—Look about you, and take your time.—Did you hear of Peter James giving his wife a black eye last night because she wanted to get him out of the alehouse?—I wonder who that letter was from that Susan Davis had from the post office. I think I could guess; poor girl! she has looked rather peaking for some weeks.—Don’t be in a hurry, Jack; look about; there’s plenty of pretty things in my shop.—So Davis the butcher has been pulled up for bad meat; I thought it would come to that, and I’m glad of it.—There’s a capital lock and key, Jack, to put to your chest, when you get one; suppose you take that.—What’s the doctor about? They say he is always sitting with the widow.—Does your mother make plenty of money by clear-starching? I know your sister had a spotted muslin frock on last Sunday, and that must have cost something.—There’s a spade, Jack; very useful to dig on the beach; you may find something—money, perhaps—who knows? Take the spade, Jack, and then you’ll owe me sixpence.—So Bill Freeman pawned his wife’s best gown last Saturday night I thought it would be so. He may say it’s because he’s caught no fish this bad weather. But I know more than people think.—Here’s a nice glass bottle, Jack, wouldn’t you like to give it to your mother, to put pickles in? it’s white glass, you see. Look about, Jack; there’s plenty of pretty things, you see.—So the Governor’s daughter’s going to be married; at least I suppose so, for I met her riding with a young gentleman; and now-a-days the quality always make love on horseback.—Well, Jack, have you found anything?”
“No, mother, I haven’t; and I must have my shilling or go. Unless, indeed, you’re inclined to help me to what I want, and then I’ll give you the rope for nothing.”