CHAPTER SIX.

ROSE ASKS A FAVOUR.

"You'll not find no better, search all Colchester through!" said Mrs
Clere, to a fat woman who did not look particularly amiable, holding up
some worsted florence, drab with a red stripe.

"Well, I'm not so sure," replied the cross-looking customer. "Tomkins,
now, in Wye Street, they showed me some Kendal frieze thicker nor that,
and a halfpenny less by the yard."

"Tomkins!" said Mrs Clere, in a tone not at all flattering to the
despised Tomkins. "Why, if that man knows a Kendal frieze from a piece
of black satin, it's all you can look for. Never bred up to the
business, _he_ wasn't. And his wife's a poor good-for-nought that
wouldn't know which end of the broom to sweep with, and his daughters
idle, gossiping hussies that'll drive their husbands wild one o' these
days. Don't talk to me about Tomkins!"

And Mrs Clere turned over the piece of florence as roughly as if it had
been Tomkins instead of itself.

"It was right good frieze," said the customer doubtfully.

"Then you'd better go and buy it," snapped Mrs Clere, whom something
seemed to have put out that morning, for she was generally
better-tempered than that.

"Well, but I'm not so sure," repeated the customer. "It's a good step
to Wye Street, and I've lost a bit o' time already. If you'll take
tenpence the ell, you may cut me off twelve."

"Tenpence the fiddlesticks!" said Mrs Clere, pushing the piece of
worsted to one side. "I'll not take a farthing under the shilling, if
you ask me while next week. You can just go to Tomkins, and if you
don't find you've got to darn his worthless frieze afore you've done
making it up, why, my name isn't Bridget Clere, that's all. Now, Rose
Allen, what's wanting?"

"An't please you, Mistress Clere, black serge for a girdle."

"Suit yourself," answered Mistress Clere, giving three pieces of serge,
which were lying on the counter, a push towards Rose. "Well, Audrey
Wastborowe, what are you standing there for? Ben't you a-going to that
Tomkins?"

"Well, nay, I don't think I be, if you'll let me have that stuff at
elevenpence the ell. Come now, do 'ee, Mistress Clere!"

"I'm not to be coaxed, I tell you. Shilling an ell, and not a bit
under."

"Well! then I guess I shall be forced to pay it. But you'll give me
good measure?"

"I'll give you as many ells as you give me shillings, and neither more
nor less. Twelve? Very good."

Mrs Clere measured off the f