Hannah had had her sweethearting days along by the
riverside and in pleasant strolls on Sheen Common, and not a few of her
swains cherished tender recollections of her fascinating coquetry. She
knew very well she would find some old admirer at the Stocks Market who
for auld lang syne would willingly give Lavinia a seat in his covered
cart returning to Mortlake with empty baskets. And Mortlake of course,
is no very long distance from Twickenham.
So it came about. The clock of St. Christopher le Stocks struck five as
the two young women entered the market. The Bank of England as we now
know it did not then exist. St. Christopher's, hemmed in by houses,
occupied the site of the future edifice, as much in appearance like a
prison as a bank. Sir Thomas Gresham's Exchange then alone dominated the
open space at the entrance of the Poultry.
The market was in full swing. Shopkeepers, hucksters and early risen
housewives keen on buying first hand and so saving pennies were
bargaining at the various stalls. Hannah went about those set apart for
fruit and soon spotted some one she knew--a waggoner of honest simple
looks. His mouth expanded into the broadest of grins and he coloured to
his ears when he caught sight of Hannah.
"Ecod Hannah, my gal, if the sight o' 'ee baint good fur sore eyes. I'm
in luck sure-ly. Fi' minutes more an' 'ee'd ha' found me gone. Dang me
if 'ee baint bonnier than ever.
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