Something within her protested against the idea of selling the dairy produce to the new people at Brae Wood; but she struggled against the feeling.
"Oh yes; why not, Jessie ?" she said; though she knew well enough.
"Well, miss," replied Jessie, hesitatingly, and with a questioning glance at her young mistress's averted face, "Jason didn't know at first; he said that selling the things at the new house was different to sending 'em to market, and that you mightn't like it; that you might think it was not becoming." Ida laughed.
"That's pride on Jason's part; wicked pride, Jessie," she said.

"If you sell your butter and eggs, it can't very much matter whether you sell them at the market or direct.

Oh, yes: tell Jason he can let them have anything we can spare." Jessie's face cleared and broke into a smile: she came of a race that looks after the pennies and loves a good "deal." "Thank you, miss!" she said, as if Ida had conferred a personal favour.
"And they'll take all we can let 'em have, for they've a mortal sight of folk up there at Brae Wood.

William says that there's nigh upon fifty bedrooms, and that they'll all be full.

His sister is one of the kitchen-maids--there's a cook from London, quite the gentleman, miss, with, rings on his fingers and a piano in his own room--and Susie says that the place is all one mass of ivory and gold, and that some of the rooms is like heaven--or the queen's own rooms in Windsor Castle." Ida laughed.
"Susie appears to have an enviable acquaintance with the celestial regions and the abode of royalty, Jessie." "Yes, miss; of course, it's only what she've read about 'em.