The result of the impertinence was that the two sisters began to dispute together with painful frankness and vigour as to which of them paid least heed to Jack Dadd and his actions, till Mrs. Polley, who took and kept the high constable tone in her family, called the noisy pair to order, as it were, with a wave of her truncheon, and an imperious, ‘Be quiet, gals! Don’t be two sillies putting up your backs before Mr. Oliver.’ But although Dadd the draper was brought to discuss with Oliver, in the character of a fellow-tradesman, the general principles of sales, profits, ready money discount, long credit, bad debts, the danger of the co-operative system, apprentices, journeymen, hours of closing and holidays, the cautious veteran would no more approach, in the course of conversation, his individual practice in such debatable doings as a percentage to the seller on each day’s sales, or with regard to so-called ‘bankrupt stocks,’ ‘damaged goods,’ ‘clearing-off sales,’ ‘ready-made work done on the premises,’ than he would have spoken of these trade mysteries to the vicar, Mr. Houghton, or Dadd’s own minister, Mr. Holland. Moreover, old Dadd would say ‘sir’ in addressing his young fellow-townsman. Mrs. Dadd was quite as mannerly, with a certain folding of the hands and falsetto tone of voice which took the place of the twinkle in her husband’s eye and his sturdy accents, in their common politeness; and so long as that small term of half-ironical respect came in with every alternate sentence from the two, Oliver had scanty hope of gaining ground with them.