The young men at Mr Johnson’s had on their best looks; and their best cravats, and pivoted themselves over the counter with surprising activity.  They wanted to show us upstairs at once; but on the principle of business first and pleasure afterwards, we stayed to purchase the tea.  Here Miss Matty’s absence of mind betrayed itself.  If she was made aware that she had been drinking green tea at any time, she always thought it her duty to lie awake half through the night afterward (I have known her take it in ignorance many a time without such effects), and consequently green tea was prohibited the house; yet to-day she herself asked for the obnoxious article, under the impression that she was talking about the silk.  However, the mistake was soon rectified; and then the silks were unrolled in good truth.  By this time the shop was pretty well filled, for it was Cranford market-day, and many of the farmers and country people from the neighbourhood round came in, sleeking down their hair, and glancing shyly about, from under their eyelids, as anxious to take back some notion of the unusual gaiety to the mistress or the lasses at home, and yet feeling that they were out of place among the smart shopmen and gay shawls and summer prints.  One honest-looking man, however, made his way up to the counter at which we stood, and boldly asked to look at a shawl or two.  The other country folk confined themselves to the grocery side; but our neighbour was evidently too full of some kind intention towards mistress, wife or daughter, to be shy; and it soon became a question with me, whether he or Miss Matty would keep their shopmen the longest time.  He thought each shawl more beautiful than the last; and, as for Miss Matty, she smiled and sighed over each fresh bale that was brought out; one colour set off another, and the heap together would, as she said, make even the rainbow look poor.

“I am afraid,” said she, hesitating, “Whichever I choose I shall wish I had taken another.  Look at this lovely crimson! it would be so warm in winter.  But spring is coming on, you know.  I wish I could have a gown for every season,” said she, dropping her voice—­ as we all did in Cranford whenever we talked of anything we wished for but could not afford.  “However,” she continued in a louder and more cheerful tone, “it would give me a great deal of trouble to take care of them if I had them; so, I think, I’ll only take one.  But which must it be, my dear?”

And now she hovered over a lilac with yellow spots, while I pulled out a quiet sage-green that had faded into insignificance under the more brilliant colours, but which was nevertheless a good silk in its humble way.  Our attention was called off to our neighbour.  He had chosen a shawl of about thirty shillings’ value; and his face looked broadly happy, under the anticipation, no doubt, of the pleasant surprise he would give to some Molly or Jenny at home; he had tugged a leathern purse out of his breeches-pocket, and had offered a five-pound note in payment for the shawl, and for some parcels which had been brought round to him from the grocery counter; and it was just at this point that he attracted our notice.  The shopman was examining the note with a puzzled, doubtful air.