“Good-afternoon, Harry, good-afternoon,” replied the mournful minister. Fanny followed Harry to the door, and for some time they walked in silence through the late afternoon. “And it’s yours as much as anybody else’s?” she said. “Ay,” he answered shortly. And they went without another word, for the long mile or so, till they came to the corner of the street where Harry lived. Fanny hesitated. Should she go on to her aunt’s? Should she? It would mean leaving all this, for ever. Harry stood silent. Some obstinacy made her turn with him along the road to his own home. When they entered the house-place, the whole family was there, mother and father and Jinny, with Jinny’s husband and children and Harry’s two brothers. “You’ve been having yours ears warmed, they tell me,” said Mrs. Goodall grimly. “Who telled thee?” asked Harry shortly. “Maggie and Luke’s both been in.” “You look well, don’t you!” said interfering Jinny. Harry went and hung his hat up, without replying. “Come upstairs and take your hat off,” said Mrs. Goodall to Fanny, almost kindly. It would have annoyed her very much if Fanny had dropped her son at this moment. “What’s ’er say, then?” asked the father secretly of Harry, jerking his head in the direction of the stairs whence Fanny had disappeared. “Nowt yet,” said Harry. “Serve you right if she chucks you now,” said Jinny. “I’ll bet it’s right about Annie Nixon an’ you.” “Tha bets so much,” said Harry. “Yi—but you can’t deny it,” said Jinny. “I can if I’ve a mind.” His father looked at him inquiringly. “It’s no more mine than it is Bill Bower’s, or Ted Slaney’s, or six or seven on ’em,” said Harry to his father. And the father nodded silently. “That’ll not get you out of it, in court,” said Jinny. Upstairs Fanny evaded all the thrusts made by his mother, and did not declare her hand. She tidied her hair, washed her hands, and put the tiniest bit of powder on her face, for coolness, there in front of Mrs. Goodall’s indignant gaze. It was like a declaration of independence. But the old woman said nothing. They came down to Sunday tea, with sardines and tinned salmon and tinned peaches, besides tarts and cakes. The chatter was general. It concerned the Nixon family and the scandal.