"I'll go and tell the mistress," said the maid; but she paused at the
door. "I suppose you don't remember me, now?"
"No," said Taffy truthfully.
"My name's Lizzie Pezzack. You was with the young lady, that day,
when she bought my doll. I mind you quite well. But I put my hair
up last Easter, and that makes a difference."
"Why, you were only a child!"
"I was seventeen last week. And--I say, do you know the Bryanite,
over to St. Ann's--Preacher Jacky Pascoe?"
He nodded, remembering the caution given him.
"I got salvation off him. Master and mis'-ess they've got salvation
too; but they take it very quiet. They're very fond of one another;
if you please one, you'll please 'em both. They let me walk over to
prayer-meetin' once a week. But I don't go by Mendarva's shop--
that's where you work--though 'tis the shortest way; because there's
a woman buried in the road there, with a stake through her, and I'm
a terrible coward for ghosts."
She paused as if expecting him to say something; but Taffy was
staring at a "neck" of corn, elaborately plaited, which hung above
the mantel-shelf. And just then Mrs. Joll entered the kitchen.
Taffy--without any reason--had expected to see a middle-aged
housewife. But Mrs. Joll was hardly over thirty; a shapely woman,
with a plain, pleasant face and auburn hair, the wealth of which she
concealed by wearing it drawn straight back from the forehead and
plaited in the severest coil behind.
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