Did a customer inquire if the grocer could really recommend the wondrous substitute for eggs which a persevering bagman had forced into his stock, he would answer that 'when you did not put eggs into a pudding it was difficult to taste them there'; and when he was asked if his 'real Mocha coffee' was real Mocha, he would say grimly, 'as understood in small shops.' One summer day, when the big brick house opposite was reflecting the oppressive sun's heat into the shop, and nobody was present but husband and wife, Joanna looked across at Emily's door, where a wealthy visitor's carriage had drawn up.

Traces of patronage had been visible in Emily's manner of late.
'Shadrach, the truth is, you are not a business-man,' his wife sadly murmured.

'You were not brought up to shopkeeping, and it is impossible for a man to make a fortune at an occupation he has jumped into, as you did into this.' Jolliffe agreed with her, in this as in everything else.
'Not that I care a rope's end about making a fortune,' he said cheerfully.

'I am happy enough, and we can rub on somehow.' She looked again at the great house through the screen of bottled pickles.
'Rub on--yes,' she said bitterly.

'But see how well off Emmy Lester is, who used to be so poor! Her boys will go to College, no doubt; and think of yours--obliged to go to the Parish School!' Shadrach's thoughts had flown to Emily.
'Nobody,' he said good-humouredly, 'ever did Emily a better turn than you did, Joanna, when you warned her off me and put an end to that little simpering nonsense between us, so as to leave it in her power to say "Aye" to Lester when he came along.' This almost maddened her.
'Don't speak of bygones!' she implored, in stern sadness.