“I made acquaintance with my guests, sir,” pursued the Jew, with an evident purpose of drawing out the dressmaker, “through their coming here to buy of our damage and waste for Miss Jenny’s millinery. Our waste goes into the best of company, sir, on her rosy-cheeked little customers. They wear it in their hair, and on their ball-dresses, and even (so she tells me) are presented at Court with it.”

“Ah!” said Fledgeby, on whose intelligence this doll-fancy made rather strong demands; “she’s been buying that basketful today, I suppose?”

“I suppose she has,” Miss Jenny interposed; “and paying for it too, most likely!”

“Let’s have a look at it,” said the suspicious chief. Riah handed it to him. “How much for this now?”

“Two precious silver shillings,” said Miss Wren.

Riah confirmed her with two nods, as Fledgeby looked to him. A nod for each shilling.