Alice did not reply to this, but her lips trembled; evidently the words wounded her. All the time Tom stood smoking a cigarette. Although he had come to meet Alice, he did not like the idea of going up to claim her while so many girls were around. "Ay, Tom," said one of the girls, shouting to him. "How's Polly Powell?" Tom did not reply; his ready wit left him for the moment. "If I were Alice," said another, "I'd give thee the sack. Tha's noan fitted to go with her." "Ay," said another, "and Polly's only just playing wi' him; she's got more nor one string to her bow, has Polly. And she'd noan look at thee, Tom, if the young landlord at the Bull and Butcher had made up to her." Lancashire folks are not slow in speaking their minds, and they have no false delicacy about telling people their opinion of them. "Well," said Tom quietly, "I fly higher game than you, Emily Bilson, anyhow. I have only just got to hold up my finger to the whole lot on you, and you'd come after me. But I'm noan going to do it; I've got too much respect for myself." Almost as if by arrangement the girls separated, and Tom found himself walking up Liverpool Road by the side of Alice Lister. Neither of them spoke for some minutes. Tom didn't know what to say, while Alice was evidently thinking deeply. "Have you been to the Young Men's Class this afternoon," she asked presently. "Nay." "Why?" asked the girl, looking at him steadily. "It's noan in my line," replied Tom. "That kind of thing'll do for kids, but when people get grown up they want something better." "Better and cleverer people than you, Tom, don't give it up," replied the girl. Tom continued to walk by Alice's side, looking rather sulky.