"They aint a ringing; they're a tolling."
Mr. Jones, rather confused at being thus put down by a girl of sixteen, coughed behind his hand, and looked round the room for a subject. He found none, save a general inquiry after the health of Mary, Mrs. Gray, and Miss Gray.
"They're all well enough," disdainfully replied Jane.
"Oh, are they! I see the rag and bottle shop is shut," he added, plunging desperately into the subject.
"S'pose it is!" answered Jane, eyeing him rather defiantly; for the rag and bottle woman was her own aunt; and she thought the observation of a personal nature.
Though much taken aback, Jones, spurred on by the irresistible wish to know, ventured on another question.
"You don't know who is going to take it next, do you?"
"Oh! you want to take it, do you?" said Jane.
"I—I!" exclaimed Jones, flurried and disconcerted. "La, bless the young woman! I aint in the rag and bottle line, am I?"
He thought by this artful turn to throw his young enemy off the scent; but her rejoinder showed him the futility of the attempt.