It would look nice in our little parlour.'" "But no!" I says, "Mary Elizabeth, if any one's to have that jug, it's your Aunt Mary." "How kind of her!" murmured Mrs.Mesurier, sympathetically.
"Yes, those were her words, Mary," said the old man, unfolding the newspaper parcel, and revealing an ugly little jug of metallically glistening earthenware, such as were turned out with strange pride from certain English potteries about seventy years ago.

It seemed made in imitation of metal,--a sort of earthenware pewter; and evidently it had been a great aesthetic treasure in the eyes of Mrs.Clegg.

Mrs.Mesurier received it accordingly.
"How pretty," she said, "and how kind of Aunt Esther! They don't make such things nowadays." "No, it's a vallyble relic," said the old man; "but you're worthy of it, Mary.

I'd rather see you have it than any of them.

My word, but I'm glad I've got it here safely.