“There are a few poor people my husband attends. I want to help them with a few little delicacies.”
Mrs. Betty’s drawl was most confidentially sympathetic, and Mr. Mainprice ducked approvingly behind the counter.
“What brand, madam? Lazenby’s, Cross & Blackwell’s—?”
“Oh—the best—what you recommend.”
“Thank you, madam.”
“Let me see,” and Mrs. Betty’s eyes wandered with an air of delightful innocence about the shop; “I like the glassed jellies best. Six. Yes, six. And six tins of desiccated soup.”
“Certainly, madam. The large size?”
“Yes. Will you have them made up into different parcels? I will take them in the carriage.”
“Certainly, madam.”
Mr. Mainprice nodded sharply to the three melancholy assistants, and then bent over the counter to scribble in his order-book.