“I’m not going!” Emmy struggled with Jenny’s restraining hands.  “It’s no good fussing me, Jenny....  I’m not going.  He can take who he likes.  But it’s not me.”

Alf and Jenny exchanged angry glances, each bitterly blaming the other.

“Em!” Jenny shouted.  “You’re mad!”

“No, I’m not.  Let me go!  Let me go!  He didn’t want me to go.  He wanted you.  Oh, I knew it.  I was a fool to think he wanted me.”  Then, looking with a sort of crazed disdain at Jenny, she said coolly, “Well, how is it you’re not ready?  Don’t you see your substitute’s waiting!  Your land lover!”

“Land!” cried Alf.  “Land!  A sailor!” He flushed deeply, raising his arms a little as if to ward off some further revelation.  Jenny, desperate, had her hands higher than her head, protestingly quelling the scene.  In a loud voice she checked them.

“Do ... not ... be ... fools!” she cried.  “What’s all the fuss about?  Simply because Alf’s a born booby, standing there like a fool!  I can’t go.  I wouldn’t go—­even if he wanted me.  But he wants you!” She again seized Emmy, delaying once more Emmy’s mechanical unfastening of the big buttons of her coat.  “Alf!  Get your coat.  Get her out of the house!  I never heard such rubbish!  Alf, say ... tell her you meant her to go!  Say it wasn’t me!”

“I shouldn’t believe him,” Emmy said, clearly.  “I know I saw him holding your hand.”

Jenny laughed hysterically.

“What a fuss!” she exclaimed.  “He’s been doing palmistry—­reading it.  All about ... what’s going to happen to me.  Wasn’t it, Alf!”

Emmy disregarded her, watching Alf’s too-transparent uneasiness.

“You always were a little lying beast,” she said, venomously.  “A trickster.”

“You see?” Jenny said, defiantly to Alf.  “What my own sister says?”

“So you were.  With your sailor....  And playing the fool with Alf!” Emmy’s voice rose.  “You always were....  I wonder Alf’s never seen it long ago....”

At this moment, with electrifying suddenness, Pa put down his tankard.

“What, ain’t you gone yet?” he trembled.  “I thought you was going out!”

“How did he know!” They all looked sharply at one another, sobered.  So, for one instant, they stood, incapable of giving any explanation to the meekly inquiring old man who had disturbed their quarrel.  Alf, so helpless before the girls, was steeled by the interruption.  He took two steps towards Emmy.

“We’ll have this out later on,” he said.  “Meanwhile ...  Come on, Em!  It’s just on eight.  Come along, there’s a good girl!” He stooped, took her hands, and drew her to her feet.  Then, with uncommon tenderness, he re-buttoned her coat, and, with one arm about her, led Emmy to the door.  She pressed back, but it was against him, within the magic circle of his arm, suddenly deliriously happy.