The Adventures of Tom Leigh by Phyllis Bentley Page B

reel of thread.”
    But Gracie had already seized upon a small pair of scissors.
    â€œThese,” she said.
    â€œPure Sheffield steel,” said the pedlar at once.
    Mr. Firth looked a trifle daunted, for doubtless the scissors would be of more price than he wished to pay.
    â€œWhy do you choose these, Gracie?” he said reproachfully.
    â€œThey’re like yours, Father,” replied the child.
    â€œShe is right there, master,” put in Jeremy. “They are real clothier’s scissors, with square ends—no points to pierce the cloth.”
    â€œWell, take them, child,” said Mr. Firth, putting his hand into his pocket for silver. “And you, Tom, see you guard them carefully.”
    â€œI will, sir,” I said. “Thank you, Miss Gracie.”
    I spoke strongly, for though I was embarrassed I was indeed touched by the gift. Gracie took the scissors and laid them in my hand, and the touch of her soft little fingers seemed to soothe my sore heart. I could easily have kissed the child as she looked up at me, for she was a sweet little thing enough, her blue eyes kind and smiling, her hair allred-gold in the sun; but with Mrs. Firth looking down her nose at me with an offended air I did not venture to do so.
    â€œLet it be a sign to you that you’ll be a clothier one day, Tom,” said Mr. Firth. “Now, then! Us must get back to us work.”
    Upstairs, I put the scissors in the inner pocket of my coat where they fitted as if it had been made for them, and I made up my mind I would keep them there always. The morning passed pleasantly enough, for even Jeremy seemed in a better mood than I had so far seen him.
    That night as I lay in my bed I heard a faint mew at my door. At first I disregarded it, but the mew came again, and this time there came a scratching too.
    â€œIt is Sandy again,” I thought, amused.
    I could not help but be pleased though a little concerned, when, as I opened the door, Sandy sprang past me, leaped on my bed and buried himself in the coverlet. I had to move him a little to get myself comfortable, but though he mewed rather pettishly he did not withdraw but adapted himself to my shoulder, and we slept side by side. What Mrs. Firth would have said to this I did not like to think, but I was glad of his company. From that time on he often shared my bed, and indeed his presence was one of the small pleasures of my life.
    Indeed, I would have liked my life at Upper High Royd well enough, save for the one matter of Jeremy. Of course I was always hard at work. I helped Josiah to dye the wool in the little round lead house across the yard—a bright blue was the usual Upper High Royd colour, and I wore my old ragged clothes on dyeing day. I carried wool out to the women who did carding and spinning for Mr. Firth in their cottages, and I brought the spun yarn back to Upper High Royd for Mr. Firth and Jeremy to weave, or took it out to the cottage of Josiah, and I helped Jeremy when he was warping, and I helped tread the pieces in human water when they were woven, so as to get the grease out of the wool. I hadn’t my full strength as yet, so I couldn’t carrya piece of cloth down to the fulling mill in the valley or back up the long hills, but I helped to stretch it out on the tenters when it came back dripping water. The pieces from Josiah had to be fulled and tentered too. Then there was the horse to feed and groom, and the cow to milk; and whenever I had nothing else to be busy with I was set to carding. Sometimes Gracie was set to carding too, and when the weather came more summery and warm, we sat side by side in the porch at this task. Sometimes we fell to laughing and talking, and sometimes Mr. Firth would shout down the stairs to us: “Less noise, you two!” But he was never vexed with Gracie for long. It seemed from what I heard from Jeremy that Mr. and Mrs. Firth for long had no children, Mrs. Firth being of a somewhat