“White silk would suit her best,” cried Mrs. Ferguson, “or green, with a chin-curtain--a loo-mask. Which would you have, sir?” “Indeed,” he said quietly, “her skin is good enough. I know no way to better it.” Then they all laughed, pelting the big man with many questions, until he could not help but laugh, as he declared he was overwhelmed, and would come on his business another day. But on this the women would not stay, and took themselves and their high bonnets and many petticoats out of the room, each dropping a curtsey at the door, and he bowing low, like Mr. John Penn, as never before I had seen him do. No sooner were they gone than he desired me to give him the note he had written to his sister, since now it was not needed, and then he inquired what book I was reading. Aunt Gainor glanced at it, and replied for me, “A book of travels, John, very improving too. Take it home, Hugh, and read it. If you find in it no improprieties, it may be recommended to your father.” She loved nothing better than to tease him. “I see not what harm there could be in travels,” he returned. “Thou hast my leave. Gainor, what is this I hear? Thou wouldst have had me sell thee for a venture threescore hogsheads of tobacco from Annapolis. I like not to trade with my sister, nor that she should trade at all: and now, when I have let them go to another, I hear that it is thou who art the real buyer. I came hither to warn thee that other cargoes are to arrive. Thou wilt lose.” Aunt Gainor said nothing for a moment, but let loose the linen safeguard petticoat she wore against mud or dust when riding, and appeared in a rich brocade of gray silken stuff, and a striped under-gown. When she had put off her loose camlet over-jacket, she said, “Will you have a glass of Madeira, or shall it be Hollands, John? Ring the bell, Hugh.” “Hollands,” said my father. “What will you give me for your tobacco to-day, John?” “Why dost thou trifle?” he returned. “I sold it again, John. I am the better by an hundred pounds. Two tobacco-ships are wrecked on Hinlopen. An express is come. Have you not heard?” “Farewell,” he said, rising. He made no comment on her news. I had an idea that he would not have been unhappy had she lost on her venture. Joseph Warder was her agent then and afterward. She rarely lost on her purchases. Although generous, and even lavish, she dearly loved a good bargain, and, I believe, liked the game far more than she cared for success in the playing of it. “Come, Hugh,” she said, “let us eat and drink. Take the book home, and put it away for your own reading. Here is sixpence out of my gains. I hope you will never need to trade, and, indeed, why should you, whether I live or die? How would the king’s service suit you, and a pair of colours?” I said I should like it.