Now it had been a principle with Mary's father, and she had thoroughly learned it, that whatever would be counted a rudeness by _any_ customer, must be shown to _none_.

"If all are equal in the sight of God," he would say, "how dare I leave a poor woman to serve a rich?
Would I leave one countess to serve another?
My business is to sell in the name of Christ.

To respect persons in the shop would be just the same as to do it in the chapel, and would be to deny him." "Excuse me, ma'am," said Mary, "I am waiting on Miss Mortimer," and went on with what she was about.

Mrs.Turnbull flounced away, a little abashed, not by Mary, but by finding who the customer was, and carried her commands across the shop.

After a moment or two, however, imagining, in the blindness of her surging anger, that Miss Mortimer was gone, whereas she had only moved a little farther on to look at something, she walked up to Mary in a fury.
"Miss Marston," she said, her voice half choked with rage, "I am at a loss to understand what you mean by your impertinence." "I am sorry you should think me impertinent," answered Mary.