On the morning following Mrs. Brownlow\'s little tea-party Ralph Newton was bound by appointment to call upon Sir Thomas. But before he started on that duty a certain friend of his called upon him. This friend was Mr. Neefit. But before the necessary account of Mr. Neefit\'s mission is given, the reader must be made acquainted with a few circumstances as they had occurred at Hendon.

It will be remembered perhaps that on the Sunday evening the two rivals left the cottage at the same moment, one taking the road to the right, and the other that to the left,—so that bloodshed, for that occasion at least, was prevented. "Neefit," said his wife to him when they were alone together, "you\'ll be getting yourself into trouble." "You be blowed," said Neefit. He was very angry with his wife, and was considering what steps he would take to maintain his proper marital and parental authority. He was not going to give way to the weaker vessel in a matter of such paramount importance, as to be made a fool of in his own family. He was quite sure of this, while the strength of the port wine still stood to him; and though he was somewhat more troubled in spirit when his wife began to bully him on the next morning, he still had valour enough to say that Ontario Moggs also might be—blowed.

On the Monday, when he returned home and asked for Polly, he found that Polly was out walking. Mrs. Neefit did not at once tell him that Moggs was walking with her, but such was the fact. Just at five o\'clock Moggs had presented himself at the cottage,—knowing very well, sly dog that he was, the breeches-maker\'s hour of return, which took place always precisely at four minutes past six,—and boldly demanded an interview with Polly. "I should like to hear what she\'s got to say to me," said he, looking boldly, almost savagely, into Mrs. Neefit\'s face. According to that matron\'s ideas this was the proper way in which maidens should be wooed and won; and, though Polly had at first declared that she had nothing at all to say to Mr. Moggs, she allowed herself at last to be led forth. Till they had passed the railway station on the road leading away from London, Ontario said not a word of his purpose. Polly, feeling that silence was awkward, and finding that she was being hurried along at a tremendous pace, spoke of the weather and of the heat, and expostulated. "It is hot, very hot," said Ontario, taking off his hat and wiping his brow,—"but there are moments in a man\'s life when he can\'t go slow."

"Then there are moments in his life when he must go on by himself," said Polly. But her pluck was too good for her to desert him at such a moment, and, although he hardly moderated his pace till he had passed the railway station, she kept by his side. As things had gone so far it might be quite as well now that she should hear what he had to say. A dim, hazy idea had crossed the mind of Moggs that it would be as well that he should get out into the country before he began his task, and that the line of the railway which passed beneath the road about a quarter of a mile beyond Mr. Neefit\'s cottage, might be considered as the boundary which divided the town from pastoral joys. He waited, therefore, till the bridge was behind them, till they had passed the station, which was close to the bridge;—and then he began. "Polly," said he, "you know what brings me here."

Polly did know very well, but she was not bound to confess such knowledge. "You\'ve brought me here, Mr. Moggs, and that\'s all I know," she said.

"Yes;—I\'ve brought you here. Polly, what took place last night made me very unhappy,—very unhappy indeed."

"I can\'t help that, Mr. Moggs."

"Not that I mean to blame you."

"Blame me! I should think not. Blame me, indeed! Why are you to blame anybody because father chooses to ask whom he pleases to dinner? A pretty thing indeed, if father isn\'t to have whom he likes in his own house."

"Polly, you know what I mean."

"I know you made a great goose of yourself last night, and I didn\'t feel a bit obliged to you."

"No, I didn\'t. I wasn\'t a goose at all. I don\'t say but what I\'m as big a fool as most men. I don\'t mean to stick up for myself. I know well enough that I am foolish often. But I wasn\'t foolish last night. What was he there for?"

"What business have you to ask, Mr. Moggs?"

"All the business in life. Love;—real love. That\'s why I have business. That young man, who is, I suppose, what you call a swell."

"Don\'t put words into my mouth, Mr. Moggs. I don\'t call him anything of the kind."

"He\'s a gentleman."

"Yes;—he is a gentleman,—I suppose."

"And I\'m a tradesman,—a bootmaker."

"So is father a tradesman, and if you mean to tell me that I turn up my nose at people the same as father is, you may just go back to London and think what you like about me. I won\'t put up with it from you or anybody. A tradesman to me is as good as anybody,—if he is as good. There."

"Oh, Polly, you do look so beautiful!"

"Bother!"

"When you say that, and speak in that way, I think you as good as you are beautiful."

"Remember,—I don\'t say a word against what you call—gentlemen. I take \'em just as they come. Mr. Newton is a very nice young man."

"Are you going to take him, Polly?"

"How can I take him when he has never asked me? You are not my father, Mr. Moggs, not yet my uncle. What right have you to question me? If I was going to take him, I shouldn\'t want your leave."

"Polly, you ought to be honest."

"I am honest."

"Will you hear me, Polly?"

"No, I won\'t."

"You won\'t! Is that answer to go for always?"

"Yes, it is. You come and tease and say uncivil things, and I don\'t choose to be bullied. What right have you to talk to me about Mr. Newton? Did I ever give you any right? Honest indeed! What right have you to talk to me about being honest?"

"It\'s all true, dear."

"Very well, then. Hold your tongue, and don\'t say such things. Honest indeed! If I were to take the young man to-morrow, that would not make me dishonest."

"It\'s all true, dear, and I beg your pardon. If I have offended you, I will beg your pardon."

"Never mind about that;—only don\'t say foolish things."

"Is it foolish, Polly, to say that I love you? And if I love you, can I like to see a young fellow like Mr. Newton hanging about after you? He doesn\'t love you. He can\'t love you,—as I do. Your father brings him here because he is a gentleman."

"I don\'t think anything of his being a gentleman."

"But think of me. Of course I was unhappy, wretched,—miserable. I knew why he was there. You can understand, Polly, that when a man really loves he must be the miserablest or the happiest of human beings."

"I don\'t understand anything about it."

"I wish you would let me teach you."

"I don\'t want to learn, and I doubt whether you\'d make a good master. I really must go back now, Mr. Moggs. I came out because mother said I\'d better. I don\'t know that it could do any good if we were to walk on to Edgeware." And so saying, Polly turned back.

He walked beside her half the way home in silence, thinking that if he could only choose the proper words and the proper tone he might yet prevail; but feeling that the proper words and the proper tone were altogether out of his reach. On those favourite subjects, the ballot, or the power of strikes, he could always find the proper words and the proper tone when he rose upon his legs at the Cheshire Cheese;—and yet, much as he loved the ballot, he loved Polly Neefit infinitely more dearly. When at the Cheshire Cheese he was a man; but now, walking with the girl of his heart, he felt himself to be a bootmaker, and the smell of the leather depressed him. It was evident that she would walk the whole way home in silence, if he would permit it. The railway station was already again in sight, when he stopped her on the pathway, and made one more attempt. "You believe me, when I say that I love you?"

"I don\'t know, Mr. Moggs."

"Oh, Polly, you don\'t know!"

"But it doesn\'t signify,—not the least. I ain\'t bound to take a man because he loves me."

"You won\'t take Mr. Newton;—will you?"

"I don\'t know. I won\'t say anything about it. Mr. Newton is nothing to you." Then there was a pause. "If you think, Mr. Moggs, that you can recommend yourself to a young woman by such tantrums as there were going on last night, you are very much mistaken. That\'s not the way to win me."

"I wish I knew which was the way."

"Mr. Newton never said a word."

"Your father told him to take you out a-walking before my very eyes! Was I to bear that? Think of it, Polly. You mayn\'t care for me, and I don\'t suppose you do; but you may understand what my feelings were. What would you have thought of me if I\'d stayed there, smoking, and borne it quiet,—and you going about with that young man? I\'ll tell you what it is, Polly, I couldn\'t bear it, and I won\'t. There;—and now you know what I mean." At this point in his speech he took off his hat and waved it in the air. "I won\'t bear it. There are things a man can\'t bear,—can\'t bear,—can\'t bear. Oh, Polly! if you could only be brought to understand what it is that I feel!"

After all, he didn\'t do it so very badly. There was just a tear in the corner of Polly\'s eye, though Polly was very careful that he shouldn\'t see it. And Polly did know well enough that he was in earnest,—that he was, in fact, true. But then he was gawky and ungainly. It was not that he was a shoemaker. Could he have had his own wits, and danced like the gasfitter, he might have won her still, against Ralph Newton, with all his blood and white hands. But poor Ontario was, as regarded externals, so ill a subject for a great passion!

"And where have you been, Polly?" said her father, as soon as she entered the house.

"I have been walking with Ontario Moggs," said Polly boldly.

"What have you been saying to him? I won\'t have you walk with Ontario Moggs. I and your mother \'ll have to fall out if this kind of thing goes on."

"Don\'t be silly, father."

"What do you mean by that, miss?"

"It is silly. Why shouldn\'t I walk with him? Haven\'t I known him all my life, and walked with him scores of times? Isn\'t it silly, father? Don\'t I know that if I told you I loved Ontario Moggs, you\'d let me marry him to-morrow?"

"He\'d have to take you in what you stand up in."

"He wouldn\'t desire anything better. I\'ll say that for him. He\'s true and honest. I\'d love him if I could,—only, somehow I don\'t."

"You\'ve told him you didn\'t,—once and for all?"

"I don\'t know about that, father. He\'ll come again, you may be sure. He\'s one of that sort that isn\'t easily said nay to. If you mean,—have I said yes?—I haven\'t. I\'ll never say yes to any man unless I love him. When I do say it I shall mean it............