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136 her. She would do the thing thoroughly—why not? The episode might as well be complete.

"I wish you'd let me help you to sell the things," she said. "I should like it."

"Wouldn't you be above it?" he asked.

"Not a bit," she answered gaily. "Only I must learn the prices of things. Tell me. How much are the herrings?"

He told her—and at the first village she successfully sold seven herrings, five haddocks, three score of potatoes, and so many separate pounds of apples that she lost count.

He was lavish of his praises.

"You might have been brought up to it from a girl," he said, and she wondered how old he thought she was then.

She yawned no more over dull novels now—Buxton no longer bored her. She had suddenly discovered a new life—a new stage on which to play a part, her own ability in mastering which filled her with the pleasure of a clever child, or a dog who has learned a new trick. Of course, it was not a new trick; it was the old one.

It was impossible not to go out with the greengrocer every day. What else was there to