"Well, I’m sure you would. Perhaps you could give me the name of the dressmaker you worked for in Clothford for a reference. It's the usual thing to do so, though I suppose it's just a form.”
"Oh, yes, sir. It was Mrs. Feather, in Widegate—though, of course, the shop is closed now."
"I know the name. Well, now, we'll call our bargain settled then, and I hope you'll try to do what I want. My old servant's a little bit touchy, but I daresay you won't disagree with her. Now, what's your name?"
"Elisabeth Verrell, sir."
"Very well, Elisabeth—I'll write it down in my pocket-book. My name is Hepworth—Thorndyke Hepworth—and if you'd like to ask any questions about me, anybody in the fair will answer them, or any of the Sicaster shopkeepers. Well, now, let me see—oh, there’s one thing I mustn't forget."
He unbuttoned his long coat and drew forth a leather bag from his breeches' pocket.
