“Of what, yer honour?” inquired Molly briskly.
“That your memory cannot retain all the commissions I must entrust you with, and not only me, but every one in the house.”
“Thry me, madam—go on, jew’l! Never fear me! Give me a hundred ov them if you like, for I have a way ov me own to remimber.”
“Well, I wish to serve you at all events. Then you must first carry this post-bag to the post-office.”
“So I can, madam; an’ I need say nothin’ there, as the bag will tell what it wants ov itself. Go on, darlint!”
“Then you are to go to the baker’s in New-street, to the butcher’s in Market-street, to F——’s for groceries, to Mrs R—— of Church-street with this note, and to Mrs L—— of Castle-hill with the other. And here is a list of articles you are to purchase for me at any shop you please. But what operation are you performing on your fingers?”
“Augh, there’s my saicret!” quoth the market-woman triumphantly. “Ye see, misthress, I have three sorts ov thread, black, white, an’ grey; an’ when I am not sure that I’ll think ov a thing parfectly, I tie one ov those threads on one ov me fingers; an’ whin I am at a loss, I keep lookin’ at the thread till I remimber what I tied it on for, an’ so at last it comes into my mimory. Go on, misthress, if you plaise; the day is gettin’ late with us.”
“I have no more commissions, Molly; but here comes your master with his.”
“Well, Mrs Miskellagh, have you got all your commandments?” inquired the “ministhur,” smiling.
“Augh, be lanient, yer rivirince! the mistress has given me a power to do to-day.”