The St. Luke’s Market is the largest roof in Bursley.  And old inhabitants, incapable of recovering from the surprise of marketing under cover instead of in an open square, still, after thirty years, refer to it as the covered market.

Mrs. Prockter smiled.

“By the way,” said James, “where’s them childer?”

The old people looked around.  Emanuel and Helen, who had entered the proud precincts with them, had vanished.

“I believe they’re upstairs, ma’am,” said the fat caretaker, pleating her respectable white apron.

“You can go,” said Mrs. Prockter, curtly, to this vestige of grandeur.  “I will see you before I leave.”

The apron resented the dismissal, and perhaps would have taken it from none but Mrs. Prockter.  But Mrs. Prockter had a mien, and a flowered silk, before which even an apron of the Wilbrahams must quail.

“I may tell you, Mr. Ollerenshaw,” she remarked, confidentially, when they were alone, “that I have not the slightest intention of buying this place.  Emanuel takes advantage of my good nature.  You’ve no idea how persistent he is.  So all you have to do is to advise me firmly not to buy it.  That’s why I’ve asked you to come up.  He acknowledges that you’re an authority, and he’ll be forced to accept your judgment.”

“Why didn’t ye say that afore, missis?” asked James bluntly.

“Before when?”

“Before that kick-up (party) o’ yours.  He got out of me then as I thought it were dirt cheap at eight thousand.”

“But I don’t want to move,” pleaded Mrs. Prockter.

“I’m asking ye why ye didn’t tell me afore?” James repeated.

Mrs. Prockter looked at him.  “Men are trying creatures!” she said.  “So it seems you can’t tell a tarradiddle for me?” And she sighed.

“I don’t know as I object to that.  What I object to is contradicting mysen.”

“Why did you bring Helen?” Mrs. Prockter demanded.

“I didna’.  She come hersen.”

They exchanged glances.

“And now she and Emanuel have run off.”

“It looks to me,” said James, “as if your plan for knocking their two heads together wasna’ turning out as you meant it, missis.”

“And what’s more,” said she, “I do believe that Emanuel wants me to buy this place so that when I’m gone he can make a big splash here with your niece and your money, Mr. Ollerenshaw!  What do you think of that?”

“He may make as much splash as he’s a mind to, wi’ my niece,” James answered.  “But he won’t make much of a splash with my money, I can promise ye.”  His orbs twinkled.  “I can promise ye,” he repeated.

“To whom do you mean to leave it, then?”

“Not to his wife.”

“H’m!  Well, as we’re here, I suppose we may as well see what there is to be seen.  And those two dreadful young people must be found.”

They mounted the stairs.

“Will you give me your arm, Mr. Ollerenshaw?”