Do you want anything?"
"Do I want anything!" retorted Mrs. Jones. "I've come in to shelter from
the rain. It's been threatening all the evening, and it's coming down now
like cats and dogs."
The clerk was leading the way to the little parlour; but she ignored the
movement, and went on to the kitchen. He could only follow her. "It's a
pity you came out when it threatened rain," said he.
"Business took me out," replied Mrs. Jones. "I've been up to the mill.
I heard young Rip was ill, and going to leave; so I went up to ask if
they'd try our Jim. But young Rip isn't going to leave, and isn't ill,
mother Floyd says, though it's certain he's not well. She can't think
what's the matter with the boy; he's always fancying he sees ghosts in
the river. I've had my trapes for nothing."
She had given her gown a good shake from the rain-drops in the middle of
the kitchen, and was now seated before the fire. The clerk stood by the
table, occasionally snuffing the candle, and wishing she'd take herself
off again.
"Where's Nancy gone?" asked she.
"I didn't hear her say."
"And she'll be gone a month of Sundays, I suppose. I shan't wait for her,
if the rain gives over."
"You'd be more comfortable in the small parlour," said the clerk, who
seemed rather fidgety; "there's a nice bit of fire there."
"I'm more comfortable here," contradicted Mrs. Jones.
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