The Adventures of Tom Leigh by Phyllis Bentley Page A

hungry, lad? Come in and break your fast.”
    So I very thankfully ate a large plate of fried ham and eggs, often having to answer Mr. Defoe’s questions most unbecomingly with my mouth full, for it seemed he was in haste, having arranged to be allowed to enter the Cloth Hall and watch the market there, and so was listening for thebell. Presently it rang and we hurried off together, for I was loath to part with him.
    The Cloth Hall seemed to me a poor ordinary place compared with our fine old Guildhall in Lavenham, but as we stood by the broad doors I was certainly astonished by the number of pieces brought in, which I reckoned to be upwards of three hundred. Each man brought a piece on his shoulder, but there was no jostling and pushing; they all stood in line and went in smoothly, with scarcely a “by your leave” here and there. Mr. Defoe watched it all with shining eyes, turning his head from side to side and letting nothing escape him. Presently a very well-dressed clothier came up to us.
    â€œNow’s your time, Mr. Defoe. Go in quietly and stand by the doors. Don’t speak and don’t walk about. You’ll have to stay in till the bell rings again, you understand?”
    â€œYes. My boy can come in too, I suppose?” said Mr. Defoe in a careless tone.
    â€œAye, if he behaves himself. But stand still and don’t say a word, lad, or you’ll be in trouble.”
    We had just stepped inside when the bell stopped ringing and the doors were closed behind us. A group of men who had been standing by the doors at once moved forward away from us, so that now we could see the rows of boards laid on trestles, stretching along each side of the hall. The pieces of cloth were laid across these trestle tables, with a man behind; red and blue and brown and green, they made a pretty sight.
    And now the merchants—for such, I now saw, were the group who had been standing by the door—went along to the trestles and began to bargain for the cloth. At least, I suppose they were bargaining, for some of them had patterns of cloth in their hands, which they tried to match up amongst the pieces, and some held papers or letters to which they referred, as if these were their instructions on what to buy. But I could not at first be sure what they were about, for nobody spoke a word aloud. It was all done in whispers.
    This astonished me, for indeed it had rather a ludicrous effect, these sturdy solid men bending forward to whisper in each other’s ears. However, as I grew accustomed to the sight I began, as Mr. Defoe would say, to perceive the reason and nature of the thing. The merchant examined the piece, if he did not like it he moved on; if it suited him he bent forward and asked the price, the clothier whispered it, and the bargain was struck; money changed hands, and the clothier threw the piece over his shoulder and took it out by a back door.
    There was one merchant with a small snippet of blue in his hand who went up and down looking for a piece in the same colour.
    â€œBut that is
our
colour,” I thought. “He is looking for an Upper High Royd piece; where is Jeremy?”
    I scanned the market more closely and now caught sight of Jeremy and the blue piece, next to Mr. Gledhill with his three maroons. Just then the merchant with the blue pattern saw him too and stepped over to him and whispered, and the piece was sold and the merchant drew out his money-bag. While Jeremy was waiting for the money to be counted into his hand he looked up and caught my eye. I smiled at him, glad for Mr. Firth’s sake that he had sold the piece. He gave me in reply a glance of such furious hatred that I was quite shaken, and hard put to it not to disgrace myself by speaking to Mr. Defoe. However, I managed to keep silence.
    Presently the bell rang again, the doors were thrown open and merchants and clothiers all left the hall. We followed them out into the sunshine.
    â€œI’ll bid you