'Nurse,' she whispered, 'in case we can't get the wool at Prideaux', we might come back here, but I'm afraid Bess wouldn't like to turn back. Oh! I do hope'—with one of her little sighs—'they'll have it at the other shop.'
And so they had, though when we got there a little difficulty arose. The two elder children both wanted to come in, having got their heads full of asking the old man about the smugglers' caves, and thinking it was for myself I wanted the wool. Never a word said poor Miss Lally, when her sister told her to stay outside with Miss Baby and the cart; but I was getting to know the look of her little face too well by this time not to understand the puckers about her eyes, and the droop at the corners of her mouth.
'We may as well all go in,' I said, lifting Miss Baby out of the cart. 'There's no one else in the shop, and I want Miss Lally's opinion about the wool.'
'Lally's!' said Miss Bess rather scornfully; 'she doesn't know anything about wool, or knitting stockings, nurse.'
'Ah! well, but perhaps she's going to know something about it,' I said. 'It's a little secret we've got, Miss Bess; you shall hear about it all in good time.'
'Oh, well, if it's a secret,' said Miss Bess good-naturedly—she was a nice-minded child, as they all were—'Franz and I will keep out of the way while you and Lally get your wool. We'll talk to old Prideaux.'
He was in the shop, as well as his daughter, who was knitting away as the children had described her, and the old wife came hurrying out of the kitchen, when she heard it was the little gentry from Treluan that were in the shop. They did make a fuss over the children, to be sure; it wasn't easy for Miss Lally and me to get our bit of business done. But Sally Prideaux found us just what we wanted—the same wool that she was knitting stockings of herself, only she had not much of it in stock, and might be some little time before she could get more. But I told Miss Lally there'd be enough for a short pair of socks for her cousin—boys didn't wear knickerbockers and long stockings in those days—adding that it was best not to undertake too big a piece of work for the first.
The wool cost one-and-sixpence. It was touching to see the little creature counting over the money she had been holding tightly in her hand all the way, and her look of distress when she found it only came up to one and fourpence halfpenny.
'Don't you trouble, my dear,' I said, 'I have some coppers in my pocket.'
She thanked me as if I had given her three pounds instead of three halfpence, saying in a whisper—'I'll pay you back, nursie, when I get my twopence next Saturday;' and then as happy as a little queen she clambered down off the high stool, her precious parcel in her hand.