Opposite, a boy pasted on the boards outside the newspaper shop a new placard: “Brave conduct at Delar.” She ran across the road to buy a copy of the newspaper; before she returned a customer came to the Hoxton side of the shop demanding something stylish at one-and-eleven. ’Tilderann fenced with her pending the return of her mistress.
“It occurred to me, looking in the glass,” said the woman confidentially, “that I wanted smartenin’ up. It may be only me fancy, but it struck me I was beginning to look old. What d’you think?”
“Depends what you call old,” replied ’Tilderann. “Sure you can’t run to more than one-and-eleven?”
“Eight year ago, or a trifle more,” said the woman, reminiscently, “I was as light-’earted a young woman as you’d ’ave found in all ’Oxton, if you’d searched for a month. I was really the rarest one for making jokes that you ever ’eard of before my ’usband, Bat Miller, had to go away.”
“Emigrated?” asked ’Tilderann, glancing between the hats and bonnets for her mistress.
“He were away,” said Mrs. Miller, evasively, “for a matter of four or five year. And when I went to meet him, believe me or not, he was as stand-offish in his manner as he could he.”
“That’s like ’em,” said ’Tilderann. “These bonnets at four-and-three are all the go just now.”
“Quite ’igh and mighty if you please,” went on Mrs. Miller aggrievedly. “And I firmly believe that if I hadn’t had on my best mantle he’d have gone off again, goodness knows where. As it was, I persuaded him to settle down, and we’ve got on as well as can be expected; only that now and again, when we have a few words, he says something very satirical about the old days in Ely Place.”
“Here she is!” said ’Tilderann. “Come on, Miss! ’Ere’s a customer been waiting for howers.”
“Sorry,” remarked Beatrice Bell, panting. Her pretty face was crimson with excitement; she hugged a pink halfpenny journal to her breast.