“Ay!” said James.  “He came in an’ had a sup o’ tea.”

“Do you know why he came?”

“Maybe he felt faintlike, and slipped in here, as there’s no public nearer than the Queen Adelaide.  Or maybe he thought as I was getting on in years, and he wanted for to make my acquaintance afore I died.  I didna’ ask him.”

“I see you understand,” said Mrs. Prockter.  “Mr. Ollerenshaw, my stepson is courting your niece.”

“Great-stepniece,” James corrected; and added:  “Is he now?  To tell ye th’ truth I didn’t know till th’ other day as they were acquainted.”

“They haven’t been acquainted long,” Mrs. Prockter informed him.  “You may have heard that Emanuel is thinking of going into partnership with Mr. Andrew Dean—­a new glaze that Mr. Dean has invented.  The matter may turn out well, because all that Mr. Dean really wants is a sleeping partner with money.  Emanuel has the money, and I think he can be guaranteed to sleep.  Your stepniece met Emanuel by accident through Mr. Dean some weeks ago, over at Longshaw.  They must have taken to each other at once.  And I must tell you that not merely is my stepson courting your niece, but your niece is courting my stepson.”

“You surprise me, missis!”

“I daresay I do.  But it is the fact.  She isn’t a Churchwoman; at least, she wasn’t a Churchwoman at Longshaw; she was Congregational, and not very much at that.  You aren’t a Churchman, either; but your niece now goes to St. Luke’s every Sunday.  So does my stepson.  Your niece is out to-night.  So is my stepson.  And if they are not together somewhere I shall be very much astonished.  Of course, the new generation does as it likes.”

“And what next?” James inquired.

“I’ll tell you what next,” cried the mature lady, with the most charming vivacity.  “I like your niece.  I’ve met her twice at the St. Luke’s Guild, and I like her.  I should have asked her to come and see me, only I’m determined not to encourage her with Emanuel.  Mr. Ollerenshaw, I’m not going to have her marrying Emanuel, and that’s why I’ve come to see you.”

The horror of his complicated situation displayed itself suddenly to James.  He who had always led a calm, unworried life, was about to be shoved into the very midst of a hullabaloo of women and fools.

His wizened body shrank; and he was not sure that his pride was quite unhurt.  Mrs. Prockter noticed this.

“Oh!” she resumed, with undiminished vivacity, “it’s not because I think your niece isn’t good enough for Emanuel; it’s because I think she’s a great deal too good!  And yet it isn’t that, either.  The truth is, Mr. Ollerenshaw, I’m a purely selfish woman.  I’m the last person in the world to stand in the way of my poor stepson getting a better wife than he deserves.  And if the woman chooses to throw herself away on him, that’s not my affair.  What I scent danger in is that your stepniece would find my stepson out.  At present she’s smitten by his fancy waistcoat.  But she would soon see through the fancy waistcoat—­and then there would be a scandal.  If I have not misjudged your stepniece, there would be a scandal, and I do not think that I have misjudged her.  She is exactly the sort of young woman who, when she had discovered she had made a mistake, would walk straight out of the house.”