At the corner of Black Jack Street, not quite in the market-place, but facing it, was another shop. Here there were hats and bonnets in plenty, marked in plain figures for all to see, and there was one, manifestly a bonnet "suitable for a elderly person," that positively fascinated Mrs. Birkin. Of white straw was it, trimmed with scarlet geraniums and elegant excrescences of watered ribbon of a delicate mauve shade—a truly bridal bonnet, fitted to grace even the marriage of our young lady herself. But its cost was twelve and sixpence, a truly prohibitive price for Mrs. Birkin—"A’most a month’s keep," she sadly whispered to herself. She went away from that window. She walked right round the market-place, she looked into every milliner’s window, she gazed upon other bonnets; but there was nothing to compare with the creation compounded of scarlet geraniums and mauve ribbon in the shop in Black Jack Street. All the same, Mrs. Birkin went home with only three yards of scouring flannel to show for her day’s shopping. But she dreamed of the bonnet, and her waking hours were haunted by its beauties. "I can’t afford no more nor ten shillin’s," she said to a neighbour with whom she discussed the question. "Mebbe if I waits, her’ll get a bit faded, and they’ll put un down in proice." Thrice more did Mrs. Birkin avail herself of Squoire’s kindness and drive in the coach to Ziren, and on the third occasion she screwed up her courage to enter the shop, and in trembling tones demanded of the young lady behind the counter whether there was any chance of the bonnet—for it still graced the window—"bein’ a bit cheaper for cash. I couldn’t pay for un to-day," she added; "but next week I be comin’ in again, an’ if so be as her were two shillin’ less, I med manage un." The young lady was good-natured and approachable. She even lifted the bonnet from its stand in the window, and proposed that Mrs. Birkin should try it on. This Mrs. Birkin did, though her knees knocked together during the process, and she was fain to confess that her handsome, sunburnt face was assuredly "uncommon set off" when framed in the scarlet geraniums and pale mauve ribbons. "Of course I can’t promise that it won’t be gone before next week," said the young lady. "It’s a very attractive article; but if it is still here, we might be able to meet you. You wouldn’t like me to put it aside for you, to make sure?" she suggested. But here Mrs. Birkin was firm. "No," she said; "if so be as you has a chanst to sell it, far be it from me to stand in your way. But if it be still yer, when I do come back, then, if I’ve got the money, I’ll ’ave she. The ribbons is gettin’ a bit faded," she added shrewdly; and with this parting shot Mrs. Birkin hurried from the shop to buy yellow soap.