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 H