'Oh, you care only for them.'
'Outside Prickwillow. You cut me short before I had finished my sentence. That is bad manners. If we kept manners in stock, I'd sell you a penn'orth.'
'Ah,' said Drownlands, for a moment relaxing his iron grasp, 'you allow me some of your regard?'
'I always care for every one who is kind to me, and you have been kind to both me and my poor father.' At the mention of her father Zita's lips and voice quivered, and tears filled her eyes. 'You were good to him. I do not forget that, and I'll pay you for it in anything I have got that you fancy. What do you say to smoked mother-of-pearl buttons?'
'Will you be quiet?' roared Drownlands, with an oath.
'Or,' continued Zita, 'there are several pounds of strong fish-glue. It went soft and got mouldy in the van, but I got it dry in the kitchen and wiped the mould off. It is all right now; the strength isn't taken out of it. A shilling a pound is what it would cost you in Ely, but as I offer it to you, I'll knock off twopence. You shall have it for tenpence per pound—so you see I do care for you, twopence in the shilling.'
Drownlands' face darkened; he pressed the girl's wrist so that she uttered an exclamation of pain.
'You hurt me,' she said; 'that's something off your account.'
'You are making a jest of me!' gasped the man. 'And you dare to do so? You are not afraid?'