The fancy-free Sylvia reddened, pouted, tossed back her head, and hardly deigned a farewell word of thanks or civility to the lame man; she was at an age to be affronted by any jokes on such a subject.  Molly took the joke without disclaimer and without offence.  She rather liked the unfounded idea of her having a sweetheart, and was rather surprised to think how devoid of foundation the notion was.  If she could have a new cloak as Sylvia was going to have, then, indeed, there might be a chance!  Until some such good luck, it was as well to laugh and blush as if the surmise of her having a lover was not very far from the truth, and so she replied in something of the same strain as the lame net-maker to his joke about the butter.

’He’ll need it all, and more too, to grease his tongue, if iver he reckons to win me for his wife!’

When they were out of the shop, Sylvia said, in a coaxing tone,—­

’Molly, who is it?  Whose tongue ’ll need greasing?  Just tell me, and I’ll never tell!’

She was so much in earnest that Molly was perplexed.  She did not quite like saying that she had alluded to no one in particular, only to a possible sweetheart, so she began to think what young man had made the most civil speeches to her in her life; the list was not a long one to go over, for her father was not so well off as to make her sought after for her money, and her face was rather of the homeliest.  But she suddenly remembered her cousin, the specksioneer, who had given her two large shells, and taken a kiss from her half-willing lips before he went to sea the last time.  So she smiled a little, and then said,—­

‘Well!  I dunno.  It’s ill talking o’ these things afore one has made up one’s mind.  And perhaps if Charley Kinraid behaves hissen, I might be brought to listen.’

‘Charley Kinraid! who’s he?’

‘Yon specksioneer cousin o’ mine, as I was talking on.’

‘And do yo’ think he cares for yo’?’ asked Sylvia, in a low, tender tone, as if touching on a great mystery.

Molly only said, ‘Be quiet wi’ yo’,’ and Sylvia could not make out whether she cut the conversation so short because she was offended, or because they had come to the shop where they had to sell their butter and eggs.

’Now, Sylvia, if thou’ll leave me thy basket, I’ll make as good a bargain as iver I can on ’em; and thou can be off to choose this grand new cloak as is to be, afore it gets any darker.  Where is ta going to?’

‘Mother said I’d better go to Foster’s,’ answered Sylvia, with a shade of annoyance in her face.  ‘Feyther said just anywhere.’

‘Foster’s is t’ best place; thou canst try anywhere afterwards.  I’ll be at Foster’s in five minutes, for I reckon we mun hasten a bit now.  It’ll be near five o’clock.’

Sylvia hung her head and looked very demure as she walked off by herself to Foster’s shop in the market-place.

CHAPTER III