Mrs. Bennett's shop was not difficult to find. Just beyond Miss Ashe's house, round a bend in the road, they found themselves in what was called 'the street.' There were at least a dozen cottages close together; a little further on were two or three more, and up the hill were scattered others, at greater distances apart. The children were perfectly delighted. Here was life and interest in plenty, and Moor Cottage was not so lonely as they had imagined.
The shops were in two of the first group of cottages they came to, and here was more delight—a perfect feast. Such fascinating windows they had, so full of all sorts of interesting things, and all at such reasonable prices too, or so it seemed to the children.
Mrs. Bennett's held groceries and drapery, and boots and writing-paper, kettles and saucepans, little china images and 'surprise' packets. Mrs. Vercoe's held ironmongery and drapery, and dolls and groceries, sweets and toys of various sorts, bread, cakes and books. Mrs. Bennett sold china too, and glass, some homely medicines, and hoops and thimbles and skipping-ropes. Mrs. Vercoe included cheese and bacon, rope and twine, and baskets.
Of the two they were most drawn to Mrs. Vercoe's. Her stock appealed to them more. But as they had been told to go to Mrs. Bennett, thither they went; and Mrs. Bennett, who kept the post office too, sold Esther some stamps and changed her sovereign for her, and while they gazed fascinated about her shop, she gazed at them with frank curiosity. But nothing she could say could draw them into conversation. For some reason, they could not have said what, they did not like her. It may have been that she 'talked fine,' as her neighbours said, and minced her words in a somewhat affected way, or that she seemed very inquisitive, or that her rather cold manner unconsciously offended them. The children could not have explained why it was, but fascinating though the shop was, they hurried away from it and crossed the road to Mrs. Vercoe's.
Mrs. Vercoe's window was certainly more enticing to them than Mrs. Bennett's. A prolonged and critical gaze showed them not only all the things already mentioned, but dear little rough red pitchers which would hold just half a pint, and a larger size which would hold a pint; packets of flower-seeds with gay pictures on the outside, and only a penny each; the pitchers were only a penny and twopence; there were the dearest little watering-cans too, and fancy handkerchiefs with a nursery rhyme round the border, and funny little books, with roughly done pictures in the brightest of colours, and money-boxes, some like little houses, others representing miniature letter-boxes.
Angela longed and longed for a pitcher. Poppy wanted a penny watering-can, painted bright red inside, and green out. Penelope wanted a book and some sweets, and Esther a money-box, that she might begin to save at once.
"Do let's go inside," whispered Penelope. "There may be lots of other things inside."
"But wouldn't it look rude to come out of one shop and go right into another?" asked Esther, who was really as interested as Penelope.
"Can't we walk on a little way, and then on our way back go in as though we had just seen something we wanted?" suggested Angela, who was an adept at trying to spare people's feelings. "P'r'aps Mrs. Bennett won't be in her shop by that time."
They all agreed to this, and sauntered on with a simulated air of unconcern. They walked on past all the cottages, keeping to the wide granite road which led with many windings up and up a hill beyond the village. How far they went they had no idea, but by and by they heard a clock strike in the distance.