‘Ah, Miss,’ said Miss Gillan’s visitor, turning round to Alice, with the freedom of manner of one who does not fear to give offence, ‘I’m willing enough to see Miss Gillan’s room when I’ve such a quiet maid to show the way. You make me mind of the days when I went courting--I don’t want to tell ye how long that was ago--I’d set my eyes on just such another girl, an’ I made up my mind I’d have her or I’d die. Ye see I’d not spoken to her in my life, I saw her with old Mr Long, an’ made sure she belonged to him, so what do I do but write to him one mornin’ and offer his girl all the folly that I had. An’ then did I dress myself right down smart and beautiful, and go out a-courting like any fool of them all.’ He paused to laugh with his loud guffaw, his two entertainers remaining silent at his side. ‘Ye’ll never guess it--ha! ha! ye’ll never guess it--I never did hear such a story in my life! When I reached Mr Long, all a-quakin’ an’ a-tremblin’, he had me in the parlour, and then shook hands with me; and there was some wine and cake upon the table, and the missus she poured me a glass, and seemed fit to kiss me too. And there was I, all hot as if with fire, with my eyes on the door, like an idiot as I was; and the missus she went out for to fetch her daughter, and I heard ’em coming along the passage to the room. And then when the door opened--ye could ha’ knocked me flat!--it wasn’t the girl, it wasn’t the girl at all!’ ‘A poor, sallow creature,’ he went on, when he had laughed, ‘as wasn’t at all the sort of thing I meant; an invalidish, complaining sort of lass, as they had kept quiet, ’cause no man cared to look at her. The t’other one she had gone away that mornin’, a pretty creatur’ that was a friend of theirn; and there were they both as pleased as possible to get their daughter off their hands at last. Now, when I looked at ’em both, and saw them so pleased and proud, and saw the young lady all blushing and ready to be kissed, I hadn’t the courage to stand up before ’em all, and tell ’em it was a mistake and I must get out of it. For old Long he had always been good enough to me, and since I’d been in business I owed him a turn or two; and, besides that, there was the girl, and she’d be crying, an’ I never liked to disappoint a woman--not in those days when I was young. So I put my arm round her, and made the best of it, though, I tell ye, I didn’t like the morsel much; an’ I bought the ring in due time, and a new coat for the wedding, and didn’t tell no one what a blundering ass I’d been. And I made her a good enough husband; yes, I did, for all as she wasn’t the girl I meant to have; but she died before we’d been ten years wed, and I was left to be alone, as I am now--And now, if ye’ll please to show me the right way, I’ll be going with ye to see my niece’s room.’