“Want more window space,” he said. “Casement ought to be lower and larger. Those flowers”—he pointed to a bowl of stocks on the counter—“ought to be where people can look at ’em. But this isn’t a neighborhood for flowers. Offer vegetables and fruit at a low price, but more shop room’s needed so that folks can see ’em and so that you can buy in bigger quantities. Who is your wholesaler?” He looked down the list. “Coggins, eh? Coggins in the Market Place?”
Melia nodded. Should she tell him that Coggins had that morning refused to supply anything else until the last delivery of potatoes, bananas and tomatoes had been paid for? Pride said no, but a force more elemental than pride had hold of her now.
“Owe him six pound, I see. What does he let you have in the way of credit?”
“He won’t let me have anything else until I’ve paid his account,” said the reluctant Melia. “And he says it’s all got to be cash for the future.”
“When did he say that?”
“He’s just been up to see me.”
“Can you pay him?”
“I promised him two pounds by Saturday.”
Josiah made no comment. Once more his eyes made the tour of the shop. And then he said with the slow grunt that Melia knew so well:
“Very creditable to your man to join up ... if he sticks it.”