"Aw, yes, man, the one she bought at Miss Corkill's yesterday." "What a woman! And you telling me, when you got five goolden sovereigns out of me on Monday that she was for wearing it at the Sulby Anniversary. I wonder you are not afraid for your quarterly ticket." "But it was only the girl's half year's wages, and the labourer is worthy of his hire. Thou art always saying so at the Cross anyway." "Hould thy tongue, woman, and don't be milking that ould cow any more--it's dry, I tell thee." It was at this moment that Bessie came downstairs, and Dan, who was on the three-legged stool before the fire, making wry faces as he dragged off his mill-boots with a boot-jack, fell on her at first with his favourite weapon, irony. "Aw, the smart you are in your new hat, girl--smart tremenjous!" "I didn't think you'd have the taste to like it," said Bessie, sitting at the table. "Taste, is it?" said Dan. "Aw, the grand we are! The pride that's in some ones is extraordinary though. There'll be no holding you! You'll be going up and up! Your mother has always been used of a poor man's house and the wind above the thatch. But you'll be wanting feather beds and marble halls, I'm thinking." "They won't be yours to find then, so you needn't worry," said Bessie. "You think not? I'm not so sure of that. Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upwards .... So you're for Douglas, are you?" "Yes, I am, if you'll let me take my tea in time for the train." "Aisy, bogh, aisy!" said Mrs. Collister. "Well, you're your own woman now, so I suppose you've got lave to go," said Dan. And then rising to his stockinged feet, his face hard and all his irony gone, he added, "But I'm my own man, too, and this is my own house, I'm thinking, and if you're not home for eleven o'clock to-night, my door will be shut on you." Bessie leapt up from the table. "Shut your door if you like. There'll be lots of ones to open theirs," she cried, and swept out of the house. "There you are, woman!" said Dan. "What did I say? Imperent uncommon and dirty with the tongue! She'll have to clane it this time though. If she's not back for eleven she'll take the road and no more two words about it." Mrs. Collister struggled to her feet and followed Bessie, pretending she had forgotten something. "Bessie! Bessie!" Bessie stopped at the end of the "street" and her mother hobbled up to her. "Be home for eleven, bogh," she whispered. "It's freckened mortal I am that himself has some bad schame on." "What schame?" asked Bessie. "I don't know what, but something, so give him no chance." "What do I care about his chance?" "Aw, bolla veen, bolla veen, haven't I enough to bear with thy father and thee? Catch the ten train back--promise me, promise me." "Very well, I promise," said Bessie, and at the next moment she was gone. Five minutes later, arm-in-arm with Susie, she was swinging down the road to the railway station for Douglas.