"There's only about one thing in this world more horrid," answered George.
"My father said you expressed fears before you went that you'd find the air stifling," went on Cris, not asking what the one exception might be. "Is it hopelessly so?"
"The black hole in Calcutta must have been cool and pleasant in comparison with it," returned George.
"I wonder you are alive," continued Cris.
"I wonder I am," said George, equably. "I was quite off in a faint one day, when the shop was at the fullest. They thought they must have sent for you, Cris; that the sight of you might bring me to again."
"There you go!" exclaimed Treve Ryle. "I wonder if you could let each other alone if you were bribed to do it?"
"Cris began it," said George.
"I didn't," said Cris. "I should like to see you at your work, though, George! I'll come some day. The Squire paid you a visit yesterday afternoon, he told us. He says you are getting to be quite the counter cut; one can't serve out yards of calico without it, you know."
George Ryle's face burnt. He knew Mr. Chattaway had ridiculed him at Trevlyn Hold, in connection with his new occupation. "It would be a more fitting situation for you than for me, Cris," said he. "And now you hear it."
Cris laughed scornfully. "Perhaps it might, if I wanted one. The master of Trevlyn won't need to go into a linen-draper's shop."