We were sitting together on the half empty train toward the front end of the carriage hidden from view from the other passengers who were all sat in seats behind us. A little way into the journey an older guy came through the adjoining doors from the carriage in front and passed by our seats into the carriage behind us leering at Mrs O as he went. I looked at her and she burst out laughing saying what a dirty old bastard he was when much to our surprise he came back and sat down a few seats in front of us on the other side of the aisle. He then proceeded to eye up her legs, staring from between the headrests of the seats in front of him but looking away whenever I looked up. Mrs O tried staring him out but he just held her gaze and continued to eye her up, continually looking at her legs. Mrs O leaned toward me and whispered "You've got to admire his cheek but i bet he'd run a mile if i played along" I told her that i didn't think he would so she said there was only one way to find. Elizabeth’s few goods were soon bartered away, some of them for money, copper coins and silver ones, too, and with these she repaired to the stall of Isaac the Jew. There was always a crowd around Isaac’s stall, partly of those coming to buy, but mostly of those coming to enjoy the spirited haggling between Isaac and the women, he extolling the quality of his goods, they decrying them as Brummagem rubbish not worth the purchase. The women of Owldale were frugal with their few coppers, and Isaac would throw up his great arms and appeal out loud to his God to spare him from the poverty that would strike down his wife and children at the hands of these witches, and bemoan the time and trouble he’d taken to come to this ungrateful dale, and swear never to return. Then he would drain one of the pots of ale brought to him by a relay of worshipping small boys and return to his chaffing and haggling refreshed, his great black beard bristling with defiance and his brown eyes dancing with.
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