elicacy about telling people their opinion of them.

"Well," said Tom quietly, "I fly higher game than you, Emily Bilson,
anyhow. I have only just got to hold up my finger to the whole lot on
you, and you'd come after me. But I'm noan going to do it; I've got
too much respect for myself."

Almost as if by arrangement the girls separated, and Tom found himself
walking up Liverpool Road by the side of Alice Lister. Neither of them
spoke for some minutes. Tom didn't know what to say, while Alice was
evidently thinking deeply.

"Have you been to the Young Men's Class this afternoon," she asked
presently.

"Nay."

"Why?" asked the girl, looking at him steadily.

"It's noan in my line," replied Tom. "That kind of thing'll do for
kids, but when people get grown up they want something better."

"Better and cleverer people than you, Tom, don't give it up," replied
the girl.

Tom continued to walk by Alice's side, looking rather sulky.

He and Alice had begun to walk out together a little more than a year
before, much to the surprise of their mutual friends. For Alice was
not only better educated than Tom, but she moved in rather a better
circle. Alice's father was one who, beginning life as a weaver, had by
steady perseverance and good common sense become a small manufacturer.
He was anything but a rich man, but he was what the people called
"Doin' vary weel"--one who with good luck would in about ten years'
time "addle a tidy bit of brass." Alice was his only daughter. He had
never allowed her to go to the mill, but had sent her to a fairly good
school until she was sixteen years of age, since which time she had
stayed at home with her mother, and assisted her in the house work.
Alice had continued her education, however. She had a natural gift for
music and possessed a fine contralto voice. She had quite a local
reputation as a pianist and was constantly in demand to sing at
concerts. She was more than ordinarily intelligent too, and was a
lover of good books. Added to this she attended classes in the town
for French and German; and had on more than one occasion been invited
to the houses of big manufacturers. That was why people wondered at
her walking out with Tom Pollard. He, although looked upon as a sharp
lad, was not, as was generally agreed, "up to Alice's mark."

Still facts were facts, and there could be no doubt about it that Alice
showed a great preference for Tom, and, in spite of the fac