Part 20 (2/2)
Accordingly Mrs. Myrtle called Annie back to the counter in a kind voice.
”I can attend to you now, miss,” she said; ”but if you have anything to say, perhaps you'll say it quickly, for this is market day, and heaps of farmer's wives come in for no end of small matters.”
”Do they p.a.w.n rings, and then take them out by degrees in instalments?”
asked poor Annie in an eager voice.
”Poor, poor young lady, she's very, very bad,” murmured Mrs. Myrtle to herself.
”I couldn't say for positive, miss,” she replied, ”that a farmer's wife has never p.a.w.ned a ring; but if they are reduced to such straits, I know nothing about it.”
”Then you are not a p.a.w.nbroker yourself?”
”I am _not_, miss. Wouldn't you like to come into my parlour and rest a bit if you're tired, and maybe you'll tell me your name?”
”She's getting quite kind again,” thought Annie. ”Of course she is a p.a.w.nbroker, but she doesn't like to own it; it evidently is a very disgraceful calling.”
”My name is Annie Forest,” she said; ”and I'm not at all tired, thank you, aunt. You don't mind me calling you aunt, do you? for we always call the men in your trade uncles.”
”I hope heaven will preserve my patience,” muttered poor Mrs. Myrtle.
”I must get this young lady to her friends whatever happens. Netty!”
”Oh, don't call Netty here,” exclaimed Annie. ”Now, look here, do you see this piece of blue paper?”
”Yes, miss. It's my address, sure and certain.”
”Do you know the handwriting?”
”Well, I can't say that I do; it seems a sort of an ordinary hand, don't it, miss?”
”Is Mrs. Martin, who lives at the Grange, a friend of yours?” asked Annie suddenly.
Mrs. Myrtle's face glowed all over with pleased relief.
”Mrs. Martin of the Grange,” she exclaimed, ”old nurse to Miss Hester and Miss Nan Thornton? I should rather think she is a friend of mine. I have known her ever since we went to school together, and that's many a year ago.”
”Oh, how glad I am,” exclaimed Annie; ”then I am sure, quite sure, you will be kind to me. You will do what I ask for the sake of your friend Mrs. Martin. You won't mind just confiding to me that you are a p.a.w.nbroker? I promise most faithfully not to call you aunt if you really dislike it.”
”I'm afraid I don't understand you, Miss Forest. I am _not_ a p.a.w.nbroker; not one of my belongings would own to such a trade; and if Patty Martin gave you to understand that I am, I'll quarrel with her, late as it is in the day.”
”But she p.a.w.ned a ring to you,” said Annie; ”an old-fas.h.i.+oned gold ring with one big diamond in the middle. You lent her thirty s.h.i.+llings on it, and the interest is two s.h.i.+llings. That ring is mine. She did p.a.w.n a ring to you, did she not?”
A light at last broke over Mrs. Myrtle's face.
”Well, well,” she exclaimed; ”I begin to see what you're driving at.
Won't I have a crow to pick with Patty Martin for this. No, no, miss, she p.a.w.ned no ring to me; but she gave me a diamond ring to keep for her early one morning about three weeks ago. 'And keep it safe until I ask for it, Martha Myrtle,' said she; and safe I will keep it until then, Miss Annie Forest.”
”But it's my ring,” said Annie in great distress. ”You'll give it back to me now when I ask for it?”
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