“No, that you are not, mistress,”—“No, indeed, think of my wife’s sickness,”—“Think of my little lass,”—“Ay, and mine,”—“And my old father,”—said one voice after another.
“Can we not do something, neighbours?” said Janet. “Why not speak to Master Richard himself?”
“It is an ill thing to meddle between husband and wife,” said Margrove. “By my halidame I have a half mind to speak to the jade myself. She cannot hurt me.”
“No, but she can hurt the child more, when you have gone,” rejoined Elspeth. “Look here, it is not much, but it is something; let us get the linen ourselves, and it will help Master Margrove, honest man, at the same time. I shall be seeing to the making of the clothes and I can make a tale for the child and prevent her speaking to Mistress Mowbray. The Mistress does not pay that much attention to the little lady’s belongings I can tell you. She leaves it all to me, and bless you if she sees any linen garments I shall tell her that they are of those that came from Scotland.”
“Ay, ay, agreed, agreed,” they all shouted. “Give us the very best linen you have, master, and some of your finest lace and we will clothe her like a princess under her kirtle.”
“I’ faith, you are the right sort, but it is no profit I will be making on this business; no, you shall have the things at the price I paid for them and not a groat more, no, not even for carriage and I will give her some pieces of lace myself. See here are some fine pieces of Italian work. This is a beautiful little piece of punto in aria and this is a fine piece of merletti a piombini: But stay; she shall have too a finer piece still, something like the second one; it is Flemish, dentelles au fuseau, from Malines”; he drew it forth as he spoke and fingered it lovingly amid marked expressions of admiration from Elspeth and the other woman.
“It’s nothing to some beans that I shall give her,” interposed Silas, the irrepressible farm-reeve. “They are French, you know, from Paris,” imitating Walter’s manner.
“Be quiet”; “stop your nonsense,” they all shouted.
“I am not quite sure,” he went on dreamily and quite unperturbed, “whether I shall thread them on a string to wear on her bosom, or cook them for her to wear inside; but certainly she shall have them for nothing; not a groat will I take. I should scorn to ask the price they cost me.”