“Are we to have Mrs. Middlemass up or not, mother?” exclaimed Sophy.

“Yes, child, yes.  Bring her up by all means.  We’ll contrive to make some sort of a bargain with her.”

Sophy disappeared, and a moment or two later she ushered Mrs. Middlemass into the bedroom where the above conversation had taken place.

The pedler was a very stout person, with a red face, and the bundle which she carried in front of her and propelled first into the room, was of enormous dimensions.

“Good-day, Mrs. Bell,” she said.  “Good-day, young ladies.  And what may I have the pleasure of serving you with to-day, Mrs. Bell?  I’ve got some elegant goods with me, just the style for your beautiful young ladies.”

With this speech, which was uttered with great gravity, Mrs. Middlemass proceeded to open her bundle, and to exhibit the worst muslin, cashmere, French merino, and other fabrics, which she offered for the highest price.

“There,” she said, “there’s a cashmere for you!  Feel it between your finger and thumb, Mrs. Bell, mum, there’s substance, there’s quality.  It would make up lovely.  Shall I cut a length a-piece for the three young ladies, ma’am?”

“No, no,” said Mrs. Bell, “that cashmere is dark and heavy, and coarse, too.  I don’t expect it’s all-wool.  It’s shoddy, that’s what it is.”

“Shoddy, ma’am!  That a lady whom I’ve served faithful for years should accuse me of selling shoddy!  No, Mrs. Bell, may Heaven forgive you for trying to run down a poor widow’s goods.  This is as pure all-wool cashmere as is to be found in the market, and dirt cheap at three and elevenpence a-yard.  Have a length for yourself, ma’am; it would stylish you up wonderful.”

“No,” said Mrs. Bell, “I don’t want a dress to-day, and that cashmere isn’t worth more than one and six.  What we are wishing for—­though I don’t know that we really want anything—­do we, girls?  But what we might buy, if you had it very cheap, is a bit of something light and airy that would make up very elegantly for the evening.  Do you care to have another evening-dress, Matty?  I know you have a good few in your wardrobe.”

“I don’t know,” said Matty, “until I see what Mrs. Middlemass has.  I don’t want anything common.  I can get common things at Perry’s; and perhaps I had better send for my best dress to London, ma.”

This remark of giggling Miss Matty’s was really astute for she knew that Mrs. Middlemass held Perry, the draper, in the most sovereign contempt.

“Right you are, my dear,” said the pedler, a smile of gratified vanity spreading over her face, “you can get your common things, and very common things they’ll be, at Perry’s.  But maybe old Auntie Middlemass can give you something as genteel as the London shops.  You look here, my pretty.  Now, then.”