“Come, come, Auntie, come,” cried Philip again, and the sweet old thing, too gentle to hurt a fly, turned on him also with the fury of a wild-cat. “Go along yourself with your 'come' and 'come' and 'come.' Say less and do more.” With that final outburst she swept down the steps and along the path, leaving Philip three paces behind, and the Ballawhaine with a terrified look under the stuffed cormorant in the fanlight above the open door. The fiery mood lasted her half way home, and then broke down in a torrent of tears. “Oh dear! oh dear!” she cried. “I've been too hasty. After all, he is your only relative. What shall I do now? Oh, what shall I do now?” Philip was walking steadily half a step behind, and he had never once spoken since they left Ballawhaine. “Pack my bag to-night, Auntie,” said he with the voice of a man; “I shall start for Douglas by the coach to-morrow morning.” He sought out the best known of the Manx advocates, a college friend of his father's, and said to him, “I've sixty pounds a year, sir, from my mother's father, and my aunt has enough of her own to live on. Can I afford to pay your premium?” The lawyer looked at him attentively for a moment, and answered, “No, you can't,” and Philip's face began to fall. “But I'll take you the five years for nothing, Mr. Christian,” the wise man added, “and if you suit me, I'll give you wages after two.” II. Philip did not forget the task wherewith Pete had charged him. It is a familiar duty in the Isle of Man, and he who discharges it is known by a familiar name. They call him the _Dooiney Molla_--literally, the “man-praiser;” and his primary function is that of an informal, unmercenary, purely friendly and philanthropic matchmaker, introduced by the young man to persuade the parents of the young woman that he is a splendid fellow, with substantial possessions or magnificent prospects, and entirely fit to marry her. But he has a secondary function, less frequent, though scarcely less familiar; and it is that of lover by proxy, or intended husband by deputy, with duties of moral guardianship over the girl while the man himself is off “at the herrings,” or away “at the mackerel,” or abroad on wider voyages.