‘I wish yo’ could find out what she has again’ me, Philip,’ said Coulson, about a fortnight after he had made the proposal.  The poor young man thought that Hester’s composure of manner towards him since the event argued that he was not distasteful to her; and as he was now on very happy terms with Philip, he came constantly to him, as if the latter could interpret the meaning of all the little occurrences between him and his beloved.  ‘I’m o’ right age, not two months betwixt us; and there’s few in Monkshaven as would think on her wi’ better prospects than me; and she knows my folks; we’re kind o’ cousins, in fact; and I’d be like a son to her mother; and there’s noane i’ Monkshaven as can speak again’ my character.  There’s nought between yo’ and her, is there, Philip?’

‘I ha’ telled thee many a time that she and me is like brother and sister.  She’s no more thought on me nor I have for her.  So be content wi’t, for I’se not tell thee again.’

’Don’t be vexed, Philip; if thou knew what it was to be in love, thou’d be always fancying things, just as I am.’

‘I might be,’ said Philip; ’but I dunnut think I should be always talking about my fancies.’

’I wunnot talk any more after this once, if thou’ll just find out fra’ thysel’, as it were, what it is she has again’ me.  I’d go to chapel for iver with her, if that’s what she wants.  Just ask her, Philip.’

‘It’s an awkward thing for me to be melling wi’,’ said Hepburn, reluctantly.

’But thou said thee and she were like brother and sister; and a brother would ask a sister, and niver think twice about it.’

‘Well, well,’ replied Philip, ’I’ll see what I can do; but, lad, I dunnot think she’ll have thee.  She doesn’t fancy thee, and fancy is three parts o’ love, if reason is t’ other fourth.’

But somehow Philip could not begin on the subject with Hester.  He did not know why, except that, as he said, ‘it was so awkward.’  But he really liked Coulson so much as to be anxious to do what the latter wished, although he was almost convinced that it would be of no use.  So he watched his opportunity, and found Alice alone and at leisure one Sunday evening.

She was sitting by the window, reading her Bible, when he went in.  She gave him a curt welcome, hearty enough for her, for she was always chary in her expressions of pleasure or satisfaction.  But she took off her horn spectacles and placed them in the book to keep her place; and then turning more fully round on her chair, so as to face him, she said,—­

‘Well, lad! and how does it go on?  Though it’s not a day for t’ ask about worldly things.  But I niver see thee now but on Sabbath day, and rarely then.  Still we munnot speak o’ such things on t’ Lord’s day.  So thee mun just say how t’ shop is doing, and then we’ll leave such vain talk.’

‘T’ shop is doing main an’ well, thank ye, mother.  But Coulson could tell yo’ o’ that any day.’