Hester said nothing.

‘Well! some folks has the luck!’ said Coulson.

‘Luck!’ said Alice, turning sharp round on him.  ’Niver let me hear such a vain word out o’ thy mouth, laddie, again.  It’s the Lord’s doing, and luck’s the devil’s way o’ putting it.  Maybe it’s to try Philip he’s sent there; happen it may be a fiery furnace to him; for I’ve heerd tell it’s full o’ temptations, and he may fall into sin—­and then where’d be the “luck” on it?  But why art ta going? and the morning, say’st thou?  Why, thy best shirt is in t’ suds, and no time for t’ starch and iron it.  Whatten the great haste as should take thee to Lunnon wi’out thy ruffled shirt?’

‘It’s none o’ my doing,’ said Philip; ’there’s business to be done, and John Foster says I’m to do it; and I’m to start to-morrow.’

‘I’ll not turn thee out wi’out thy ruffled shirt, if I sit up a’ neet,’ said Alice, resolutely.

‘Niver fret thyself, mother, about t’ shirt,’ said Philip.  ’If I need a shirt, London’s not what I take it for if I can’t buy mysel’ one ready-made.’

‘Hearken to him!’ said Alice.  ‘He speaks as if buying o’ ready-made shirts were nought to him, and he wi’ a good half-dozen as I made mysel’.  Eh, lad? but if that’s the frame o’ mind thou’rt in, Lunnon is like for to be a sore place o’ temptation.  There’s pitfalls for men, and traps for money at ivery turn, as I’ve heerd say.  It would ha’ been better if John Foster had sent an older man on his business, whativer it be.’

‘They seem to make a deal o’ Philip all on a sudden,’ said Coulson.  ‘He’s sent for, and talked to i’ privacy, while Hester and me is left i’ t’ shop for t’ bear t’ brunt o’ t’ serving.’

‘Philip knows,’ said Hester, and then, somehow, her voice failed her and she stopped.

Philip paid no attention to this half-uttered sentence; he was eager to tell Coulson, as far as he could do so without betraying his master’s secret, how many drawbacks there were to his proposed journey, in the responsibility which it involved, and his unwillingness to leave Monkshaven:  he said—­

’Coulson, I’d give a deal it were thou that were going, and not me.  At least, there is many a time I’d give a deal.  I’ll not deny but at other times I’m pleased at the thought on’t.  But, if I could I’d change places wi’ thee at this moment.’

‘It’s fine talking,’ said Coulson, half mollified, and yet not caring to show it.  ’I make no doubt it were an even chance betwixt us two at first, which on us was to go; but somehow thou got the start and thou’st stuck to it till it’s too late for aught but to say thou’s sorry.’

‘Nay, William,’ said Philip, rising, ’it’s an ill look-out for the future, if thee and me is to quarrel, like two silly wenches, o’er each bit of pleasure, or what thou fancies to be pleasure, as falls in t’ way of either on us.  I’ve said truth to thee, and played thee fair, and I’ve got to go to Haytersbank for to wish ’em good-by, so I’ll not stay longer here to be misdoubted by thee.’