CHAPTER SIX.
ROSE ASKS A FAVOUR.
"You'll not find no better, search all Colchester through!" said MrsClere, to a fat woman who did not look particularly amiable, holding upsome 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 thedespised Tomkins. "Why, if that man knows a Kendal frieze from a pieceof black satin, it's all you can look for. Never bred up to thebusiness, _he_ wasn't. And his wife's a poor good-for-nought thatwouldn't know which end of the broom to sweep with, and his daughtersidle, gossiping hussies that'll drive their husbands wild one o' thesedays. Don't talk to me about Tomkins!"
And Mrs Clere turned over the piece of florence as roughly as if it hadbeen 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 somethingseemed to have put out that morning, for she was generallybetter-tempered than that.
"Well, but I'm not so sure," repeated the customer. "It's a good stepto Wye Street, and I've lost a bit o' time already. If you'll taketenpence the ell, you may cut me off twelve."
"Tenpence the fiddlesticks!" said Mrs Clere, pushing the piece ofworsted to one side. "I'll not take a farthing under the shilling, ifyou ask me while next week. You can just go to Tomkins, and if youdon't find you've got to darn his worthless frieze afore you've donemaking it up, why, my name isn't Bridget Clere, that's all. Now, RoseAllen, 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, AudreyWastborowe, what are you standing there for? Ben't you a-going to thatTomkins?"
"Well, nay, I don't think I be, if you'll let me have that stuff atelevenpence the ell. Come now, do 'ee, Mistress Clere!"
"I'm not to be coaxed, I tell you. Shilling an ell, and not a bitunder."
"Well! then I guess I shall be forced to pay it. But you'll give megood measure?"
"I'll give you as many ells as you give me shillings, and neither morenor less. Twelve? Very good."
Mrs Clere measured off the florence, tied it up, received the twelveshillings, which Audrey drew from her pocket as slowly as possible,perhaps fancying that Mrs Clere might relent, and threw it into thetill as if the coins were severely to blame for something. Audrey tookup her purchase, and went out.
"Whatever's come to Mistress Clere?" asked a young woman who stood nextto Rose, waiting to be served. "She and Audrey Wastborowe's changedtempers this morrow."
"Something's vexed her," said Rose. "I'm sorry, for I want to ask her afavour, when I've done my business."
"She's not in a mood for favour-granting," said the young woman."That's plain. You'd better let be while she's come round."
"Nay, I can't let be," whispered Rose in answer.
"Now or never, is it? Well, I wish you well through it."
Mistress Clere, who had been serving another customer with an ounce ofthread--there were no reels of thread in those days; it was only sold inskeins or large hanks--now came to Rose and the other girl.
"Good-morrow, Gillian Mildmay! What's wanting?"
"Good-morrow, Mistress Clere! My mother bade me ask if you had a finemarble cloth, about five shillings the ell, for a bettermost gown forher."
Mrs Clere spoke a little less crossly, but with a weary air.
"Marbled cloth's not so much worn as it was," she said; "but I have afair piece that may serve your turn. It's more nor that, though. Icouldn't let it go under five and eightpence."
"Mother'll want it better cheap than that," said Gillian. "_I_ thinkthat'll not serve her, Mistress Clere. But I want a pair of tawnysleeves, an't like you, wrought with needlework."
Sleeves, at this time, were not a part of the dress, but were buttonedin as the wearer chose to have them. Gillian found these to suit her,paid for them, and went away. Mrs Clere turned to Rose.
"Now, then, do be hasteful, Rose Allen; I'm that weary!"
"You seem so in truth, Mistress Clere. I'm feared you've beenoverwrought," said Rose, in a sympathising tone.
"Overwrought? Ay, body and soul too," answered Mrs Clere, softening alittle in response to Rose's tone. "Well! folks know their own troublesbest, I reckon, and it's no good harrying other folks with them. Whatpriced serge would you have?"
"About eighteenpence, have you some?"
"One and eightpence; and one and fourpence. The one-and-fourpenny'sright good, you'll find."
"Thank you, I'll take the one-and-fourpenny: it'll be quite good enoughfor me. Well, I was going to ask you a favour, Mistress Clere; butseeing you look so o'erwrought, I have no mind to it."
"Oh, it's all in the day's work. What would you?" asked Mrs Clere,rather more graciously.
"Well, I scarce like to tell you; but I _was_ meaning to ask you thekindness, if you'd give leave for Bessy Foulkes to pass next saint's dayafternoon with us. If you could spare her, at least."
"I can spare Bessy Foulkes uncommon well!" said Mrs Clere irascibly.
"Why, Mistress Clere! Has Bessy--" Rose began in an astonished tone.Mrs Clere's servant, Elizabeth Foulkes, was her dearest friend.
"You'd best give Mistress Elizabeth Foulkes the go by, Rose Allen.She's a cantankerous, ill-beseen hussy, and no good company for you.She'll learn you to do as ill as herself, if you look not out."
"But what has Bessy done?"
"Gone into school-keeping," said Mrs Clere sarcastically. "Expects herbetters to go and learn their hornbook of her. Set herself up to tellall the world their duty, and knows it a sight better than they do.That's what Mistress Elizabeth's done and doing. Ungrateful hussy!"
"I couldn't have thought it!" said Rose, in a tone of great surprise,mixed with disappointment. "Bessy's always been so good a maid--"
"Good! don't I tell you she's better than every body else? Tell youwhat, Rose Allen, being good's all very well, but for a young maid tostick herself up to be better than her neighbours 'll never pay. Idon't hold with such doings. If Bess'd be content to be the best cook,or the best cleaner, in Colchester, I'd never say nought to her; butshe's not content; she'd fain be the best priest and the bestschool-master too. And that isn't her work, preaching isn't; dressingmeat and scouring pans and making beds is what she's called to, and notlecturing folks at Market Cross."
"Has Bessy been preaching at the Market Cross?" asked Rose in genuinehorror, for she took Mrs Clere's statements literally.
"That's not while to-morrow," said Mrs Clere in the same sarcastictone. "She's giving the lecture at home first, to get perfect. Ipromise you I'm just harried out of my life, what with one thing andanother!"
"Well, I'd like to speak with Bessy, if I might," said Rose in someperplexity. "We've always been friends, Bessy and me; and maybe she'dlisten to me--or, any ways, to Mother. Could you kindly give leave forher to come, Mistress Clere?"
"You may have her, and keep her, for all the good she is to me,"answered the clothier's wife, moving away. "Mind she doesn't give youthe malady, Rose Allen: that's all I say! It's a fair infection goingabout, and the great doctors up to London 'll have to come down and lookto it--see if they don't! Oh, my lady can go if it like her--she's sogrand now o' days I'm very nigh afeared of her. Good-morrow!"
And Rose went out with her parcel, lost in wonder as to what could bethe matter--first with Mistress Clere, and then with her friendElizabeth.