A boy was behind the
counter. When Mrs Caffyn was out he always asked the customers who
desired any article, the sale of which was in any degree an art, to
call again when she returned. He went as far as those things which
were put up in packets, such as what were called 'grits' for making
gruel, and he was also authorised to venture on pennyworths of
liquorice and peppermints, but the sale of half-a-dozen yards of
cotton print was as much above him as the negotiation of a treaty of
peace would be to a messenger in the Foreign Office. In fact,
nobody, excepting children, went into the shop when Mrs Caffyn was
not to be seen there, and, if she had to go to Dorking or Letherhead
on business, she always chose the middle of the day, when the folk
were busy at their homes or in the fields. Poor woman! she was much
tried. Half the people who dealt with her were in her debt, but she
could not press them for her money. During winter-time they were
discharged by the score from their farms, but as they were not
sufficiently philosophic, or sufficiently considerate for their
fellows to hang or drown themselves, they were obliged to consume
food, and to wear clothes, for which they tried to pay by instalments
during spring, summer and autumn. Mrs Caffyn managed to make both
ends meet by the help of two or three pigs, by great economy, and by
letting some of her superfluous rooms.
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