Merriman’s Store
“Good day, Mistress Merriman!” said her father. He smiled and bowed.
Felicity grinned. Her father always pretended she was a fine lady customer when she came to his store. “Good day, Mr. Merriman,” she answered. She liked to pretend, too.
“That’s a lovely hat you are wearing, young miss. Have you come to buy a new feather for it?” said Mr. Merriman. “Or perhaps you’d like some new ribbon or straw flowers?”
“Oh, Father! You know I don’t fancy this old hat at all,” giggled Felicity. “I wear it only because Mother insists.” She pushed the straw hat off her head so that it hung down her back.
“Aye,” agreed her father. “It’s supposed to shade your face, so that the sun does not make your nose red.”
Felicity rubbed her nose. It was rather pink. “I do forget to wear my hat sometimes,” she said.
Mr. Merriman smiled. “Sometimes you forget and sometimes you are in too much of a hurry. I know my impatient girl. But don’t fret. I think your nose is very pretty indeed.” He tapped Felicity’s nose with the tip of his finger. “And now, tell me. What did your mother send you to fetch today?”
Felicity stood very tall and pretended to be a fine lady again. “A penny’s worth of ginger root, if you please, sir.”
Her father bowed. “Yes, madam. Ginger it is,” he said. “And here’s a bit of rock candy for your trouble.”
“Thank you, Father,” said Felicity. She popped the candy in her mouth and tasted its sharp sweetness. While her father weighed the ginger root and wrapped it in newspaper, Felicity looked around the store. The shelves were crowded with bolts of cloth, bowls, bottles, kettles, and coffee pots. Fat-bellied sacks of rice, flour, and salt leaned against barrels of nails.
Everywhere Felicity looked, she saw something useful or pleasing. There were aprons, night-caps, combs, spices, sponges, rakes, fishing hooks, tin whistles, and books. Felicity loved to daydream about the faraway places everything came from. The tulip bulbs came from Holland, the tea from China, and the cotton from India. Felicity believed her father’s store was the finest store in Williamsburg and probably the finest store in all the thirteen colonies. The King of England himself didn’t go to a better shop in London, Felicity was sure.
Mr. Merriman handed Felicity a neatly wrapped packet. “Here is your ginger, Lissie,” he said. “Put it safe in your pocket so you won’t lose it the way you lost the sugar last week.”
Felicity put the ginger deep in her pocket. “I didn’t quite lose the sugar, Father,” she said. “I gave it away.”
“To a horse!” laughed Mr. Merriman. “Ah yes, now I remember.” He winked at his daughter. “I believe you’d give a horse anything. You do love horses, don’t you, Lissie?”
“Aye!” said Felicity, nodding happily.
Mr. Merriman patted Felicity’s pocket. “Mind you, don’t give this ginger to any horse, or I’ll be very disappointed. I’m hoping it’s meant for a cake to go with my supper this evening. Hurry along home now, so you can help bake my ginger cake.”
“Oh, must I go home, Father?” asked Felicity. Baking a ginger cake at home was not as interesting as helping in the store. Felicity loved to greet customers. Sometimes Father let her help them choose buttons and ribbons to buy. Sometimes she helped Marcus count the boxes and barrels of goods that had come in on ships from England. “May I stay here for a while?” Felicity asked. “May I help Marcus in the storeroom?”
“No, Lissie, you needn’t stay,” said Mr. Merriman. “Have you forgotten? Ben helps Marcus in the storeroom now.”
Hmph! thought Felicity. Ben is so quiet and shy, ’tis easy to forget him. Ben was the new apprentice. Father was teaching him how to run a store. Ben had come to live with the Merrimans one month ago. He slept in the loft above the stable and mostly kept to himself. Ever since Ben had come, Mr. Merriman did not need help in the store at all.
Felicity sighed. She knew where she should be helping—at home. A pile of mending was waiting for her there. Felicity hated the idea of sitting straight and still, stitching tiny stitches, when all the while she was stiff with boredom. She would much rather stay at the store. But her father had already turned back to his work. There was nothing to do but go home.
Felicity was in luck. Just as she opened the door to go out, a stout, well-dressed lady sailed in. The lady’s hat was decorated with ribbons and feathers that fluttered like leaves in a breeze. Felicity stepped back and held the door open wide.
“Mrs. Fitchett!” said Mr. Merriman happily. “What a pleasure! I haven’t seen you since summer began. You look well!”
“Thank you, thank you, sir,” said the lady cheerily. “You are looking well yourself.” She nodded toward Felicity. “And who is this pretty maid?” she asked. “It’s not your little Lissie, is it?”
Felicity smiled as her father answered, “Indeed, it is Felicity.”
“Well, well!” Mrs. Fitchett gasped as if she were surprised. “The dear girl! Grown so tall and pretty! Hair as bright as a marigold! I am sure she’ll have the lads flocking about, Mr. Merriman.” Mrs. Fitchett turned to Felicity. “Are you ready for the lads to come a-courting, Miss Felicity? Are you working on your sampler of stitches to show them how well you sew?”
“No, ma’am,” said Felicity. “I’ve not begun a sampler as yet.”
“Not yet?” Mrs. Fitchett asked. “Why my two girls had finished their samplers when they were your age!”
“My Lissie’s not much of a one for stitching,” said Mr. Merriman. “She hasn’t the patience.”
“High-spirited, is she?” said Mrs. Fitchett. “Well, well, Mr. Merriman. Your girl will find her patience when she goes looking for it, I’m sure. Wait till she meets a fellow she fancies. She’ll settle down fast enough.”
“Lissie is far more interested in horses than fellows,” smiled Mr. Merriman. “She’d rather go for a horseback ride than go to a fancy-dress ball.” He looked at Felicity. “Isn’t that true, Lissie, my girl?”
“Of course, Father!” said Felicity. She did not believe anyone could prefer dancing to riding horses.
“Horses!” exclaimed Mrs. Fitchett. “That reminds me why I came to your store today. I want to order oats for our horses to eat. Will you have your man bring a sack of oats ’round to my house, Mr. Merriman?”
“I’ll have my new apprentice do it,” said Mr. Merriman. “Ben is going to deliver a new bit and bridle to Jiggy Nye at the tannery this afternoon. He will bring the oats to your house on his way.”
“Very well,” said Mrs. Fitchett. She lowered her voice to a gossipy tone. “I know why that good-for-nothing Jiggy Nye wants a new bridle and bit. I hear he’s got himself a new work horse. He won it gambling or some such thing. In any case, he didn’t pay for it, mind you.”
Felicity listened closely. She wanted