Lois Menzel Read Online Free Page A

in the shop to hear.
    “D’you plan on payin’ for them furbelows, ma’am?”
    Anne looked about curiously, as did most of the people present, wondering to whom the woman was speaking so loudly. She was profoundly shocked to find the shopkeeper staring at her.
    “Excuse me,” she said doubtfully. “Were you speaking to me?”
    “Indeed I was, ma’am. And what I asked was, do you mean to pay for them ribbons, or just take ’em  without payin’?”
    Thoroughly confused and more than a little embarrassed, Anne stepped back to the counter and laid her parcel down. She lowered her voice, hoping the shopkeeper would do the same. “I paid you—two and fourpence—you gave me change.”
    With no diminution in volume the woman returned. “I wrapped you a parcel, ma’am, ribbons and flowers. If you not be willin’ to pay, then I su’pose I must put my stock back on the shelf.”
    She reached for the parcel while Anne stood unresponsive. She could not think of a thing to say—did not know what she should do ...
    At that precise moment a silver-tipped ebony cane descended on the counter between the two women, nearly landing on the shopkeeper’s fingers as she reached to reclaim the package. The action so startled Anne that she jumped, then turned to see a tall, blond man standing close beside her. His hard, unsmiling face and fierce blue eyes were fixed upon the shopkeeper. The shop had grown deathly quiet; Anne sensed that every eye and ear was attending to them.
    “I believe, my good woman,” the gentleman said, “that your memory is lamentably short. I saw this lady pay you. She tendered three shillings; you returned eightpence.”
    Anne could not take her eyes from the gentleman, so shocked was she that a stranger had come to her aid. His dress and speech clearly identified him as a person of some standing; a gentleman perhaps in his mid thirties. His voice was pleasant, but though his words were superficially polite, beneath they held a definite challenge. He never looked at Anne, but continued to regard the shopkeeper until she responded.
    “This ‘ere be no concern of yours, sir.”
    “Unethical business practice is the concern of every good citizen,” he replied.
    “Un-e-thi ...? What?” the woman asked.
    “Dishonest,” the gentleman clarified.
    “Dishonest?” The woman bristled. “This be an honest shop. Ask anyone!”
    “That is unnecessary,” he responded, “I have seen with my own eyes just how honest it is.” Then, ignoring the blustering woman, he turned his attention for the first time to Anne. “If you will wait here, madam, I will step into the street and seek the direction of the local constable. I will be more than happy to substantiate your claim to this parcel.”
    Confronted by those remarkable eyes, situated in a face more handsome than any Anne had ever seen, she found herself unable to respond beyond an affirmative nod. As the gentleman turned deliberately toward the street door, the shopkeeper found a stammering voice.
    “J-Just a moment, now, sir. There be no cause to call for the law. It be your word against mine, after all.”
    “Not quite,” he returned. “It is your word against mine and the lady’s.”
    “Very well, then,” the woman responded angrily, “Take the goods, for we all knows the law always sides with Quality. But you needn’t bother bringin’ your trade ‘ere again for—”
    “She will not,” the gentleman interrupted. “Nor will I.” Without another word he scooped the parcel from the counter, placed it in Anne’s hands, and turned for the door.
    Anne followed him quickly from the shop, knowing she must say something; but once on the street outside, all she could manage was, “Sir?”
    He turned, a brow raised in inquiry.
    “Thank you,” she said quietly, feeling inept and foolish.
    He raised a hand to the brim of his hat in a brief salute. “My pleasure, ma’am,” was all he replied before he turned again and strolled off toward