“Surely,” said Mrs. Heritage, “there cannot be much cheating in tow?”
“There are tricks in all trades,” said Betty, dryly, “and there are tricks in tow. I get mine from Widow Pechell, in Hillmartin, and as I scrutinised it pretty closely when I first went to her shop, says Mrs. Pechell, ‘Ay, thou may look, lass, but nobody is ever deceived in my tow, for they awlis expect a bit of bad in the middle, and they are sure to find it there.’”
“That was candid,” said Miss Millicent Heritage, laughing gently.
“But didst thou find some bad in the middle?” asked Mrs. Heritage.
“Yes, sure enough I did,” said Betty; “but I just took it out of the rock, and laid it on the counter, and said, ‘Now, weigh it, missis,’ and since then I never find any bad in the middle, because Mother Pechell knows it’s just no use. She may try that on with norps.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Heritage, rising, “when I want to buy tow, Betty, I will get thee to do it for me.”
Betty turned her wheel more briskly at this compliment to her sagacity, and added, “You might do worse, Mrs. Heritage; and yet I think Sukey Priddo can help you in such bargains quite as well.” Sukey Priddo was Mrs. Heritage’s housekeeper, and a sister Methodist of Betty’s.
“Oh! Sukey Priddo is a good, careful, managing soul,” said Mrs. Heritage, turning round and smiling as she went out; “but not half so sharp as thee, I think. Farewell, Betty.”
The Heritages, though they rarely gave parties, were always glad to see any of their friends at tea at five o’clock, and after that, in summer, to a walk in the grounds, and supper at eight, soon after which they liked their friends to depart, as they had family reading at nine, and all the house in bed at ten. It was a hospitable, abundant house. No good things of life were ever wanting there, for though the Friends have always been a temperate people, and have had a horror of drunkenness as actually degrading, they have always maintained luxurious tables—a luxury wedded to moderate indulgence—and have, combined with their avoidance of agitative passions, the great and healthy longevity they display.
At the simple but plenteous board of Fair Manor, our friends of Woodburn and even of Cotmanhaye—for Sir Emanuel had gradually been drawn out to occasional visits as far as there, and seemed as if he could not sufficiently admire the grave wisdom of Mr. Heritage, and the oriental beauty of the fair Millicent—have met quite another class and circle of persons. These were inhabitants of Castleborough, chiefly Friends, and their habits of thought, speech, and opinion, were a curious study to the more general denizens of the every-day world. There was a tone of what might be called practical and moral economy about them. Their plain dresses and simple manners were accompanied by a mode of looking at everything so different from that of the world—even the religious world in general—as made it rather a piquant study to those not intimate with them. Having abandoned all the usual amusements of society, as vain, frivolous, and often very immoral, and, therefore, unbecoming true Christians,—hunting, racing, theatres, balls, concerts, cards, and other games of hazard, or of skill employed for gain,—even abstaining from music, singing, or other things which might lead to lightness and dissipation, they were thrown greatly upon trade for a resource against ennui almost as much as for profit. In the domestic life, books of the most moral and grave kind, and the discussion of the great topics of philanthropy, of opposition to war, slavery, and political religions, and plans for prison discipline, and the relief of distress, and the spread of education amongst the people: these were their favourite topics; but of these their conversation was of the simplest kind. There was often a childlike character about it. In all great moral points they were simple, direct, substantial, and without grace or ornament,—grand. Brave and able must have been the man who could compete with them on any of these heads, for they were on the rock of eternal truth, and no human force could push them from it. Outside of this they could find amusement in the most simple of simplicities. You might see them at the tea-table at Fair Manor amuse themselves—that is, the young people, the elder ones looking on—with endeavouring to lift, by a close application of fingers and thumb to their smooth backs, the small dessert or tea-table plates which they used; or riddles and sober conundrums, could maintain a very innocent mirth for a whole evening.