"Good morning, Mr. Thornton," Miss Tystad said, leaning forward on the counter and batting her eyelashes vigorously.

"Is there something I can help you with?" John kept his face straight, trying his hardest to conceal his annoyance.

"Oh, why, yes there is. I was wondering if you could show me some printed chintz. I am quite in need of a new summer gown."

John reluctantly came out from behind the barrier, and crossed the store to the shelves of lighter textiles.

"Here's what we have in stock. While you make your selection, I have some things to attend to in the back."

"No! You can't leave! How ever am I to decide on what color to choose?" her gloved hand fluttered to his arm, alighting momentarily, and then pulled back. "Mother says I look too pale in rose, but I detest green, and blue seems so ordinary."

John let out a quick breath through his nose. What did he know of matching a lady's complexion to the color of her dress? After turning down those options, there was only one color in front of them Miss Tystad had not mentioned. He pulled out the bolt of white chintz covered in a spray of small yellow daisies.

"How about this?"

"Why, that is absolute perfection! What an eye you have for fashion." Again, her eyes began rapidly blinking, and John turned to bring the bolt to the counter. He saw Henry peeking out from behind the curtain of the back room, holding a hand to his mouth to stifle laughter. "Be thankful you're not her target," he mouthed, and Henry only gave him a smile in reply.

"How many yards would you like?" he asked, rolling out the gauzy material over the top of the counter.

"Oh dear, how many? Well, the skirt must be full enough for at least three petticoats…" as she babbled on, John's attention was drawn to another customer entering the shop. As the man removed his top hat, he recognized him as Mr. Armstrong from Hawkins' Mill.

"I'll cut six yards for you, that should be plenty, and if it's not, you know where to find me." John's curt words cut into Miss Tystad's monologue, and she stared up at him with indignation. At least she was quiet for the moment. He had never been so rude to a shop patron before, but he cared not if Miss Tystad held it against him.

He wrapped up the material as quickly as he could, and left the young lady standing at the counter to greet Mr. Armstrong.

"John, good to see you," The tall man gave John's hand a hardy pump. "I have news for you, do you have a moment to speak with me?"

"Yes, certainly!"

"Is dress material free with unsatisfactory service?" Miss Tystad called.

"My apologies, no, that will be 20 shillings." John rushed back to the counter, and endured her icy stare as she counted out the coins.

"Good day to you," he said as she turned to leave.

"I should hope so."

Mr. Armstrong sauntered to the counter and leaned an arm on it. "I hope I was not the cause of you having to rush through her transaction."

"No," John rubbed a hand over his forehead, "She is a frequent custom and it was entirely my fault that I lost my patience with her."

"I take it you would appreciate leaving sales and service work?"

John gave a nod, eager to hear what Mr. Armstrong would tell him.

"You'll be happy to know Burns is gone, Mr. Hawkins finally had enough of him. He's unsure about hiring someone as young as you for an overseer's position, but he is willing to give you a trial run, working with me, and then he will make his final decision."

A cheer came from behind the curtain.

"Come out here, Henry," John growled, but his friend's smile when he emerged was too much for John to be angry with.

"What do you say that?" Mr. Armstrong said.

"I would be most appreciative for the chance. When do I begin?"

"As soon as you can. Does your employer here know of this?"

"I do now," Mr. Arnolds said, coming from the back room. John tried to hide his surprise, he thought the draper was to be gone for the entire day.

"Stealing my best worker from me, eh Luke? Didn't think you'd ever deliver such a low blow to a chap." Mr. Arnolds' brindled brows sank over his eyes.

"Come now, I'm sure you can see better then I John was meant for better things then running a little village shop for the rest of his life."

"So that's what you think of me, eh?" There was a moment's pause, and then the draper gave John a slap on the back. "I think it sounds like a grand opportunity."

John breathed a sigh of relief, and ventured a slight smile.

"That mean's you'll have to step it up, Henry," Mr. Arnolds turned to his other employee, "If John's a leavin' us, that means you're the future of this shop."

"Yes sir!" Henry bobbed his head.

"I shall let Mr. Hawkins know then," Mr. Armstrong said with a nod, "I suppose you'll be needing a place to stay in Milton for the meanwhile. It would be a long trek back and forth each day."

"Yes, that's true," John said. Supposing things didn't work out, there would be no use unsettling Mother and Fanny yet, but if he was to get to work on time, it would be best to find somewhere closer to the mill.

"I'd offer you a room in my own home, but with the Mrs. and I, and 8 children, we've not got much to spare."

"Thank you, but I sure I can find a place."

"What a day for you!" Henry said after business had returned to usual, at least for today. John promised Mr. Arnolds he would finish off the week, and then would move on to his new job.

"Indeed," John nodded, looking over the accounts. "I wasn't sure if Mr. Armstrong was quite serious about the offer, but I was proven wrong."

"You might be rid of this job, and Miss Tystad both. You'll have to come back for a visit or two."

"If you can promise she won't be around the shop."

Henry laughed, "I think it was the first time in her life she saw you could be something other then the perfect man. You actually offended her!"

"Well, if that's all it takes to be rid of her, I should have done it along time ago."

John could hardly wait to get home and tell his mother. She would be so pleased for him, and for what this could mean.

He strode up the street to their little cottage, with it's sagging thatch and dingy whitewash. Window boxes filled with red geraniums gave the little place a touch of life, and the smell wafting through the open windows was a warm welcome.

"Mother!" John burst through the door and tossed down his cap on the table.

"Gracious heavens, boy, is there something wrong?" Mrs. Thornton was just setting down a steaming meat pie.

"No, it is something right, something wonderful."

"Mummy, can we finally eat now?" Fanny drooping expression matched her slumped shoulders.

"Quiet, Fanny, let John finish."

"Mr. Armstrong came by the shop today, and says I have a chance at the mill job. It's not final yet, Mr. Hawkins wants to see how I do first, but it's a chance! A chance of a lifetime!"

Mrs. Thornton's smile was tinged with sadness. "Years ago, I would have never thought to see my son so happy about tradesmen work, nor that I would be so glad of it either. This is very good news. Come, sit and eat before you tell me of the details."

Fanny seemed confused as what was going on, but was delighted that she could now eat. She scrambled into a chair beside her brother.

His mother asked him to bless the food, and a few bites into the savory pie, John found himself talking again.

"I'll need somewhere to stay in Milton, until Mr. Hawkins decides of he wants to keep me on. Do you have any ideas?"

"Well, we can't spare much for rent, and I can't say if we have any friends left in the city. None such as would agree to boarding you for bit."

"I had a thought…but I would hate to impose. Maybe Curtis could help convince her…"

"Say what you mean, John, don't dance around the matter."

John smiled. "I was thinking that maybe Curtis's aunt would allow me to say for bit. Maybe instead of rent, I could do some work for her, since she's getting on in years. I don't think she cared much for me, but if it could be profitable to both us…"

"I'm sure it would be worth looking into," his mother nodded.

The last few days at the draper's shop seemed to drag on forever. As much as John appreciated where this job had brought him, he was ready to move on. With the higher pay of his new position, he could finish paying his father's debts, and start looking more towards the future. Of course there would be the expense of a house in Milton, something modest, yet better then the mud floored cottage they had now. He tried to tell himself not to plan too heavily on this job yet, Mr. Hawkins could still say no after this trial. But he was so close. Closer then he had ever been to rebuilding what his father had thrown away.

The day before he was to start work in Milton, he received a response from Miss Helena Talby.

Dear John Thornton,

I have deliberated long and hard over your proposition. I see that you are in need, and depend on this work opportunity to help your family, but it is not a habit of mine to provide lodgings for tradesmen. If you were to come, I would expect the highest propriety to be shown by you, in respects to myself, and those in my employ. You would be expected to keep your quarters tidy, and make time to complete the tasks I ask of you. If those criterions are broken, I will execute my right to expel you from my home. If you can agree to these things, I would consider it an opportunity to show charity to those less fortunate, and would welcome you into my home.

With regards,

Miss Helena Talby