Anny fingered the linen for a moment, and then with a deft movement of her little brown hand switched it off. She gave a gasp of surprise, and putting out her hands held up a piece of Lyons silk. It was of a pale honey colour and of a texture not unlike taffeta. She shook out the glistening sheet and held the piece high up to her chin. The effect made even Hal gasp. Cip de Musset put his tankard down on the table and stepped back a few paces to look at her.
“That’s right, lassie, just a bit nearer the window,” he said.
Anny obeyed, as proud as a snake of its new skin, and stood so that the little remaining light might fall upon her.
Cip rested his huge hairy hands on his hips and leant back a little, his head on one side, and one eye shut.
“By the Lord, but you’re as fair as a new figurehead, lass,” he said approvingly.
Anny looked down and laughed with delight. She had never seen such stuff before, and the blood rushed to her face as she saw Hal’s expression of amazed admiration as he stared at her. With a little sigh she folded up the silk and returned to the bundle. It contained a letter, a piece of green frieze, and a little carved box. Anny laid aside the letter and the box, and looked at the frieze; there seemed to be a great deal of it.
Cip stepped forward to help her, and taking one end walked over to the door, while she, holding her side, went to the fireplace, yet the strip sagged in the middle to the floor.
“Two new kirtles and a pair of galligaskins for Red,” thought the girl, as she wound up the cloth, and turned her attention to the box.
Cip de Musset nudged Hal, and jerked his thumb in her direction.
“Look how the lassie plays with new toys,” he whispered.