ried Andrew, comparing Martha
with the begrimed pit-girls about him. 'The best shawl in my pack isn't
good enough for you, my dear. Pick and choose. Just make your own choice,
and I'll accommodate you about the price.'

'I've got no money,' said Martha.

'Oh, you and me'll not quarrel about money,' replied Andrew; 'you make
your choice, and I'll wait your time. I'm coming my rounds pretty
regular, and you can put up a shilling or two agen I come, without
letting on to father. But maybe you're married, my dear?'

'No,' she answered, blushing.

'It's not far off, I'll be bound,' he continued, 'and with a shawl like
this, now, you'd look like a full-blown rose. Come, I'll not be hard upon
you, as it's the first time you've dealt with me. That shawl's worth ten
shillings if it's worth a farthing, and I'll let you have it for seven
shillings and sixpence; half a crown down, and a shilling a fortnight
till it's paid up.'

Andrew threw the shawl over her shoulders, and turned her round to the
envying view of the assembled girls, who were not allowed to touch any of
his goods with their soiled hands. Martha softly stroked the bright blue
border, and felt its texture between her fingers; while she deliberated
within herself whether she could not buy it from the fund procured by the
bilberry picking in the autumn. As Stephen had never known the full
amount, she could withdraw the half-crown without his knowledge, and the
sixpence a week she could save out of her own earnings. In ten minutes,
while Andrew was bargaining with some of the others, she came to the
conclusion that she could not possibly do any longer without a new shawl;
so, telling the packman that she would be back again directly, she ran as
swiftly as she could over the cinder-hill homewards.

In her hurry to accompany Bess to the lane, she had left her cabin door
unfastened, never thinking of the danger of the open pit to her blind
grandfather and the child. Little Nan had been wearying all morning for
a run in the wintry sunshine, out of the close steam of washing in the
small hut; but Martha had not dared to let her run about alone, as she
had been used to do at Fern's Hollow, in their safe garden. After Martha
and Black Bess had left her, the child stood looking wistfully through
the open door for some time; but at last she ventured over the door-sill,
and her tiny feet painfully climbed the frozen bank behind the house,
whence she could see the group of g