One day, during the time allowed to the pit-girls for eating their
dinner, Bess came running over the cinderhills in breathless haste to the
old cabin. Martha had been busy all the morning, and was still standing
at the washing-tub; but she was glad of an excuse for resting herself,
and when Bess sprang over the door-sill, she received her very cordially.
'Martha! Martha!' cried Bess; 'come away quickly. Here's Andrew the
packman in the lane, with such shawls, Martha! Blue and red and yellow
and green! Only five shillings a-piece; and thee canst pay him a shilling
a week. Come along, and be sharp with thee.'
'I've got no money to spend,' said Martha sullenly. 'Stephen ought to let
grandfather go into the House, and then we shouldn't be so pinched. What
with buying for him and little Nan, I've hardly a brass farthing in the
world for myself.'
'I'd not pinch,' Bess answered; 'let Stephen pinch if he will. Why,
all the lads in Botfield are making a mock at thee, calling thee an
old-fashioned piece and Granny Fern. But come and look, anyhow; Andrew
will be gone directly.'
Bess dragged Martha by the arm to the top of the cinder-hill, where they
could see the pit-girls clustering round the packman in the lane.
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