and it was pleasant to dream of giving back to Tinnick its trade of former days; but when his mother asked him what steps he intended to take to get the necessary capital, he lost his temper with her.  He must have known that he could never make enough money in the shop to set the mills working!  He must have known that he would never take his father’s place at the desk by the dusty window!  But if he shrank from an avowal it was because he had no other proposal to make.  His mother understood him, though the others didn’t, and seeing his inability to say what kind of work he would put his hand to, she had spoken of Annie McGrath.  She didn’t say he should marry Annie—­she was a clever woman in her way—­she merely said that Annie’s relations in America could afford to supply sufficient capital to start one of the mills.  But he never wanted to marry Annie, and couldn’t do else but snap when the subject was mentioned, and many’s the time he told his mother that if the mills were to pay it would be necessary to start business on a large scale.  He was an impracticable lad and even now he couldn’t help smiling when he thought of the abruptness with which he would go down to the river-side to seek a new argument wherewith to confute his mother, to return happy when he had found one, and sit watching for an opportunity to raise the question again.

No, it wasn’t because Annie’s relations weren’t rich enough that he hadn’t wanted to marry her.  And to account for his prejudice against marriage, he must suppose that some notion of the priesthood was stirring in him at the time, for one day, as he sat looking at Annie across the tea-table, he couldn’t help thinking that it would be hard to live alongside of her year in and year out.  Although a good and a pleasant girl, Annie was a bit tiresome to listen to, and she wasn’t one of those who improve with age.  As he sat looking at her, he seemed to understand, as he had never understood before, that if he married her all that had happened in the years back would happen again—­more children scrambling about the counter, with a shopman (himself) by the dusty window putting his pen behind his ear, just as his father did when he came forward to serve some country woman with half a pound of tea or a hank of onions.

And as these thoughts were passing through his mind, he remembered hearing his mother say that Annie’s sister was thinking of starting dressmaking in the High Street.  ’It would be nice if Eliza were to join her,’ his mother added casually.  Eliza laid aside the skirt she was turning, raised her eyes and stared at mother, as if she were surprised mother could say anything so stupid.  ‘I’m going to be a nun,’ she said, and, just as if she didn’t wish to answer any questions, went on sewing.  Well might they be surprised, for not one of them suspected Eliza of religious inclinations.  She wasn’t more pious than another, and when they asked her if she were joking, she looked at them as if she thought the question very stupid, and they didn’t ask her any more.