ous. A distinct fear seized her. Her
self-consciousness was intense.

And there was young Ted Malkin in his starched white shirt-sleeves
and white apron and black waistcoat and tie, among his cheeses and
flitches, every one of which he had personally selected and judged,
weighing a piece of cheddar in his honourable copper-and-brass scales.
He was attending to two little girls. He nodded with calm benevolence
to Rachel and then to Louis Fores. It is true that he lifted his
eyebrows--a habit of his--at sight of Fores, but he did so in a quite
simple, friendly, and justifiable manner, with no insinuations.

"In one moment, Miss Fleckring," said he.

And as he rapidly tied up the parcel of cheese and snapped off the
stout string with a skilled jerk of the hand, he demanded calmly--

"How's Mrs. Maldon to-night?"

"Much better," said Rachel, "thank you."

And Louis Fores joined easily in--

"You may say, very much better."

"That's rare good news! Rare good news!" said Malkin. "I heard you had
an anxious night of it.... Go across and pay at the other counter, my
dears." Then he called out loudly--"One and seven, please."

The little girls tripped importantly away.

"Yes, indeed," Rachel agreed. The tale of the illness, then, was
spread over the town! She was glad, and her self-consciousness somehow
decreased. She now fully understood the wisdom of Mrs. Maldon in
refusing to let the police be informed of the disappearance of the
money. What a fever in the shops of Bursley--even in the quiet shop of
Ted Malkin--if the full story got abroad!

"And what is it to be to-night, Miss Fleckring? These aren't quite
your hours, are they? But I suppose you've been very upset."

"Oh," said Rachel, "I only want a large tin of Singapore Delicious
Chunks, please."

But if she had announced her intention of spending a thousand pounds
in Ted Malkin's shop she would not have better pleased him. He
beamed. He desired the whole shop to hear that order, for it was the
vindication of honest, modest trading--of his father's methods and his
own. His father, himself, and about a couple of other tradesmen had
steadily fought the fight of the market-place against St. Luke's
Square in the day of its glory, and more recently against the
powerfully magnetic large shops at Hanbridge, and they had not been
defeated. As for Ted Malkin, he was now beyond doubt the "best"
provision-dealer and grocer in the town, and had drawn ahead even of
"H