CHAPTER IX

A GREAT CHANGE


"Helen Rathbone," said Uncle James one Tuesday afternoon, "have ye been
meddling in my cashbox?"

They were sitting in the front room, Helen in a light-grey costume that
cascaded over her chair and half the next chair, and James Ollerenshaw
in the deshabille of his Turkish cap. James was at his desk. It is
customary in the Five Towns, when you feel combative, astonished, or
ironic towards another person, to address that other person by his full
name.

"You left the key in your cashbox this morning, uncle," said Helen,
glancing up from a book, "while you were fiddling with your safe in your
bedroom."

He did not like the word "fiddling." It did not suit either his dignity
or the dignity of his huge Milner safe.

"Well," he said, "and if I did! I wasn't upstairs more nor five minutes,
and th' new servant had na' come! There was but you and me in th'
house."

"Yes. But, you see, I was in a hurry to go out marketing, and I
couldn't wait for you to come down."