rlyle dealt at the shop
will be sufficient to proclaim the good quality of the articles kept in
it.

When Afy arrived opposite the shop, Mr. Jiffin was sunning himself at
the door; his shopman inside being at some urgent employment over
the contents of a butter-cask. Afy stopped. Mr. Jiffin admired her
uncommonly, and she, always ready for anything in that way, had already
enjoyed several passing flirtations with him.

"Good day, Miss Hallijohn," cried he, warmly, tucking up his white apron
and pushing it round to the back of his waist, in the best manner he
could, as he held out his hand to her. For Afy had once hinted in terms
of disparagement at that very apron.

"Oh--how are you Jiffin?" cried Afy, loftily, pretending not to have
seen him standing there. And she condescended to put the tips of
her white gloves into the offered hand, as she coquetted with her
handkerchief, her veil, and her ringlets. "I thought you would have shut
up your shop to-day, Mr. Jiffin, and taken a holiday."

"Business must be attended to," responded Mr. Jiffin, quite lost in the
contemplation of Afy's numerous attractions, unusually conspicuous
as they were. "Had I known that you were abroad, Miss Hallijohn, and
enjoying a holiday, perhaps I might have done it, too, in the hope of
coming across you somewhere or other."

His words were _bona fide_ as his admiration. Afy saw that, so she could
afford to treat him rather _de haut en bas_. "And he's as simple as a
calf," thought she.

"The greatest pleasure I have in life, Miss Hallijohn, is to see you go
by the shop window," continued Mr. Jiffin. "I'm sure it's like as if the
sun itself passed."

"Dear me!" bridled Afy, with a simper, "I don't know any good _that_
can do you. You might have seen me go by an hour or two ago--if you had
possessed eyes. I was on my way to Miss Carlyle's," she continued, with
the air of one who proclaims the fact of a morning call upon a duchess.

"Where _could_ my eyes have been?" exclaimed Mr. Jiffin, in an agony of
regret. "In some of those precious butter-tubs, I shouldn't wonder! We
have had a bad lot in, Miss Hallijohn, and I am going to return them!"

"Oh," said Afy, conspicuously resenting the remark. "I don't know
anything about that sort of thing. Butter-tubs are beneath me."

"Of course, of course, Miss Hallijohn," deprecated poor Jiffin. "They
are very profitable, though, to those who understand the trade."

"What _is_ all that shouting?"