"I'm not goin' to say any more," replied the girl. And then she laughed. "I was thinkin' that after we'd been to Scott's Park you might come back to tea. I don't believe father and mother would mind. Father wur sayin' only this morning that you'd got brains. You took three prizes at the Mechanics' Institute last winter, and he said that if you got manufacturing on your own, you'd make brass." "Did he say that?" asked Tom eagerly, "Ay, he did, only this morning." "But I have no capital," said Tom rather sadly. "Father's saved money," replied Polly eagerly. "The Thorn and Thistle's a good house and we have good company; and if father liked a lad, especially if I recommended him, he could easily find money to start a small mill. But there, I suppose you are only thinking of Alice Lister." The Town Hall clock chimed the three-quarters, and, much as he wanted to stay with Polly, he moved towards the door and said, "Well, I must be goin' now." Again anger flashed from Polly's eyes, but still controlling her temper she said: "Ay, but you'll come back this evening, won't you, Tom? Jim Dixon's coming to tea, and if you're not here, and he wur to ask me to go out for a walk with him tonight, I shouldn't have any excuse for refusing." There could be no doubt about it that, to Tom, Polly Powell looked very alluring. She was rather older than he, and her beauty was of a highly coloured order. At that moment Tom's mind was much distracted, nevertheless as the sound of the deep-toned bell in the Town Hall tower died away he determined to take his leave. "And I thought we might have such a nice time, too," she said, following him. "But never mind, you'll be back this evening. Ay, Tom lad, tha doesn't know when tha'art well off." And she gave him her most bewitching smile. Tom hurried up Liverpool Road with the sound of Polly's voice in his ears and the memory of the flash in her great black eyes in his mind. "She is a grand lass," he reflected, "and she's fair gone on me too; and what's more she's not so finickin' as some lasses are. After all, why should I be so straitlaced? She's a lass as loves good company, she likes a lark, and--and----" After that Tom became thoughtful.