‘A said as our lass should come, God willin’, if she only came and went, an’ thee goin’ on sprightly, old ‘ooman.  An’ a’ll turn nurse-tender mysen for t’ occasion, ‘special if thou can stand t’ good honest smell o’ whisky by then.  So, my lass, get up thy smart clothes, and cut t’ best on ’em out, as becomes a Preston.  Maybe, a’ll fetch thee home, an’ maybe Philip will convoy thee, for Nanny Corney bade thee to t’ merry-making, as well.  She said her measter would be seem’ thee about t’ wool afore then.’

‘I don’t think as I can go,’ said Philip, secretly pleased to know that he had the opportunity in his power; ‘I’m half bound to go Wi’ Hester Rose and her mother to t’ watch-night.’

‘Is Hester a Methodee?’ asked Sylvia in surprise.

’No! she’s neither a Methodee, nor a Friend, nor a Church person; but she’s a turn for serious things, choose wherever they’re found.’

‘Well, then,’ said good-natured farmer Robson, only seeing the surface of things, ‘a’ll make shift to fetch Sylvie back fra’ t’ merry-making, and thee an’ thy young woman can go to t’ prayer-makin’; it’s every man to his taste, say I.’

But in spite of his half-promise, nay against his natural inclination, Philip was lured to the Corneys’ by the thought of meeting Sylvia, of watching her and exulting in her superiority in pretty looks and ways to all the other girls likely to be assembled.  Besides (he told his conscience) he was pledged to his aunt to watch over Sylvia like a brother.  So in the interval before New Year’s Eve, he silently revelled as much as any young girl in the anticipation of the happy coming time.

At this hour, all the actors in this story having played out their parts and gone to their rest, there is something touching in recording the futile efforts made by Philip to win from Sylvia the love he yearned for.  But, at the time, any one who had watched him might have been amused to see the grave, awkward, plain young man studying patterns and colours for a new waistcoat, with his head a little on one side, after the meditative manner common to those who are choosing a new article of dress.  They might have smiled could they have read in his imagination the frequent rehearsals of the coming evening, when he and she should each be dressed in their gala attire, to spend a few hours under a bright, festive aspect, among people whose company would oblige them to assume a new demeanour towards each other, not so familiar as their every-day manner, but allowing more scope for the expression of rustic gallantry.  Philip had so seldom been to anything of the kind, that, even had Sylvia not been going, he would have felt a kind of shy excitement at the prospect of anything so unusual.  But, indeed, if Sylvia had not been going, it is very probable that Philip’s rigid conscience might have been aroused to the question whether such parties did not savour too much of the world for him to form one in them.