Rachel Frost have been a-buying," he replied. "Please, I
want to see her."

"Then want must be your master," retorted Nancy. "Rachel Frost's not at
home."

"_Ain't_ she?" returned Dan Duff, with surprised emphasis. "Why, she
left our shop a long sight afore I did! Mother says, please, would she
mind having some o' the dark lavender print instead o' the light, 'cause
Susan Peckaby's come in, and she wants the whole o' the light lavender
for a gownd, and there's only just enough of it. And, please, I be to
take word back."

"How are you to take word back if she's not in?" asked Nancy, whose
temper never was improved by extra work. "Get along, Dan Duff! You must
come along again to-morrow if you want her."

Dan Duff turned to depart, in meek obedience, and Nancy carried the
parcel into the laundry and flung it down on the ironing-board.

"It's fine to be Rachel Frost," she sarcastically cried. "Going shopping
like any lady, and having her things sent home for her! And messages
about her gownds coming up--which will she have, if you please, and
which won't she have! I'll borror one of the horses to-morrow, and go
shopping myself on a side-saddle!"

"Has Rachel gone shopping to-night?" cried one of the women, pausing in
her ironing. "I did not know she was out."

"She has been out all the evening," was Nancy's answer. "I met her
coming down the stairs, dressed. And she could tell a story over it,
too, for she said she was going to see her old father."

But Master Dan Duff is not done with yet. If that gentleman stood in awe
of one earthly thing more than another, it was of the anger of his
revered mother. Mrs. Duff, in her maternal capacity, was rather free
both with her hands and tongue. Being sole head of her flock, for she
was a widow, she deemed it best to rule with firmness, not to say
severity; and her son Dan, awed by his own timid nature, tried hard to
steer his course so as to avoid shoals and quicksands. He crossed the
yard, after the rebuff administered by Nancy, and passed out at the
gate, where he stood still to revolve affairs. His mother had
imperatively ordered him to _bring back_ the answer touching the
intricate question of the light and the dark lavender prints; and Susan
Peckaby--one of the greatest idlers in all Deerham--said she would wait
in the shop until he came with it. He stood softly whistling, his hands
in his pockets, and balancing himself on his heels.

"I'll get a basting, for sure,