She was a little fluttered and nervous,
but no more so than she always was when any man came into her shop.
She thought that he would probably have a note, or a sovereign at
least, for which she would have to give change, which was an
operation she very much disliked to perform. But the present
customer stood opposite to her, without asking for anything, only
looking fixedly at her as he drummed upon the table with his
fingers, just for all the world as Miss Jenkyns used to do. Miss
Matty was on the point of asking him what he wanted (as she told me
afterwards), when he turned sharp to me: "Is your name Mary
Smith?"
"Yes!" said I.
All my doubts as to his identity were set at rest, and I only
wondered what he would say or do next, and how Miss Matty would
stand the joyful shock of what he had to reveal. Apparently he was
at a loss how to announce himself, for he looked round at last in
search of something to buy, so as to gain time, and, as it
happened, his eye caught on the almond-comfits, and he boldly asked
for a pound of "those things." I doubt if Miss Matty had a whole
pound in the shop, and, besides the unusual magnitude of the order,
she was distressed with the idea of the indigestion they would
produce, taken in such unlimited quantities. She looked up to
remonstrate.
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