By this time John’s face was gloriously radiant, and he was just about to turn around and promise her anything under the sun, when a shrewd expression flashed into his eyes, and composing his countenance, he said, in a somewhat independent, yet nervous tone, as he faced her and adjusted his now disturbing spectacles:  “Er—­er, Mary, think o’ the trouble I’d likely get into if I intrigued for the maister to miss the train; and what should I get for all my trouble?  But still, lass, I’m willing” (the glasses were needing no end of adjusting now) “to do what I can—­that is, of course, on—­on condeetions.”

A somewhat embarrassed look came across Mary’s face as she covertly glanced at the man of conditions, who was now looking anything but imposing.

“And what may the condeetions be, Mr. Lawson?” There was a touch of wonder in her tone.

Mr. Lawson looked past her, again thrust his hands under his coat-tails, which he waved slowly to and fro like signals of distress, and said, as he raised his eyebrows and tried to appear perfectly at ease, “I—­I guess thou must remember, Mary.”

Evidently Mary’s memory was not all that could be desired, for she shook her head dubiously, and seemed more ill at ease than ever.

Being thus suddenly brought to bay, John did what men generally do when they are cornered—­he rushed into the thick of the battle, regardless of consequences.

“I axed thee, as thou knows, a year ago,” he broke out aggressively, as he gazed past her, “to have me.  Thou didn’t say much in reply; but what thou did say meant No, and now I ax thee once more, wilt thou have me?  I had not meant to ax thee again—­though I like thee just the same.  A man like me, lass, has got a little pride, and I don’t want to thrust myself upon any woman.  But I mun say that, when I seed how worked up about the missus thou wert, and about the maister, too, going away—­and hadn’t a thow’t for me—­my feelings did get a little the best o’ me, and I couldn’t help exposing ’em again summat.  So now thou knows the condeetions, Mary.”  The coat-tails by this time were simply acting in an unheard-of manner, while Mr. Lawson’s not very stalwart back was strikingly erect—­his whole manner, in brief, was that of a man determined to bear the worst, should it come, as becomes a man.  As he was still looking over her head he did not see her look of admiration as she stood and surveyed his warlike figure.

“The condeetions are—­are extraordinary ones, Mr. Lawson.”  She lowered her eyes so that he might not catch the light in them.

“Oh, are they indeed?”—­the swing of the coat-tails was now nothing less than phenomenal—­“then, Miss Mary Tiffin,” he continued, as bravely as he could, throwing out his chin a little more as he continued to look past her, “that means, I suppose, that thou doesn’t agree to the condeetions, and that thy answer again to me is No?” Facing quickly about, he began to march independently to the door.