"You are to sell that," she said; "or, rather—no, you are not to sell it for the world—but you are to borrow thirty shillings on it."
"My word! Is it to the pawn-shop you expect me to go, Miss Forest?"
"How nasty of you to say Miss Forest. I'm Annie Forest, in great trouble, and looking to you as my last comfort. You are to borrow thirty shillings on that beautiful diamond ring. I don't mind where you get it; and then you are to buy me seven yards of pink cambric, and seven yards of white cambric, and seven yards of blue cambric. These shades, do you see? And I want embroidery to match. I have put the number of yards on this slip of paper, and a list of buttons and hooks and waistbands and linings. Oh, and, of course, cottons to match. Now, will you or won't you? Will you be an angel or won't you? That's the plain question I have got to ask."
["'YOU ARE TO BORROW THIRTY SHILLINGS ON THAT BEAUTIFUL DIAMOND RING'" (p. 96)]
"It's the pawn-shop that gets over me, Miss Annie."
"Oh, please don't let it get over you. What can the pawnbroker do to you? Most people call him uncle, so I expect he's awfully good-natured."
"Uncle, indeed," exclaimed Mrs. Martin, tossing her head; "it's a word you shouldn't know, Miss Annie Forest."
"But why shouldn't I? I never heard that uncles were wicked, except the one who killed the babes in the wood. Now you will go; you will be an angel! I know this special uncle who is to lend money on my ring will be delightful!"