"I wish you'd bring me a pound of wool from Stilborough, Susan? You know where I buy it."
"Let's have the number, then."
Jane gave her a skein of the size and colour wanted, and the money for the purchase. "I'll come down for it this evening," she said. "You'll be back then."
"All right. Good-bye, Jane."
"Good-bye," returned Jane. And as the damsel's fleet steps betook her down the cliff, Jane bolted the door again, put the cambric handkerchief aside, and took the private work out of her pocket.
Meanwhile Miss Hallet had reached the village. Not very speedily. When she went out--which was but seldom--she liked to take her leisure over it. She turned aside to Tim Gleeson's cottage, to inquire after Polly; she halted at the door of two or three more poor fishermen's huts to give the good morrow, or ask after the little ones. Miss Hallet's face was cold, her manner harsh: but she could feel for the troubles of the world, and she gave what help she could to the poor folks around her.
The old woman from whom she bought her eggs, lived in a small cottage past the Dolphin Inn. Miss Hallet got her basket filled--she and Jane often had eggs and bread and butter for dinner to save cooking--paid, and talked a bit with the woman. In returning, Mrs. Bent was at the inn door, in her chintz gown and cherry cap ribbons.
"Is it you, Miss Hallet! How are you this morning?"
"Quite well, thank you," replied Miss Hallet in her prim way.
"Been getting some eggs, I see," ran on Mrs. Bent, unceremoniously. "It's not often you come down to do your own errands. Where's Jane?"