And she threw herself back in her chair, as if she had struck the decisive blow. Mr. Appleditch remarked, gently:
“It is good for your health to walk the distance, sir.”
Mrs. Appleditch resumed:
“I won’t give a farthing more than one shilling a lesson. There, now!”
“Very well,” said Hugh, rising; “then I must wish you good day. We need not waste more time in talking about it.”
“Surely you are not going to make any use of your time on a Sunday?” said the grocer, mildly. “Don’t be in a hurry, Mr. Sutherland. We tradespeople like to make the best bargain we can.”
“Mr. Appleditch, I am ashamed of you. You always will be vulgar. You always smell of the shop.”
“Well, my dear, how can I help it? The sugar and soft-soap will smell, you know.”
“Mr. Appleditch, you disgust me!”
“Dear! dear! I am sorry for that.—Suppose we say to Mr. Sutherland—”