The last day of the old year after Pete's departure found Philip attending to his duty.

"Are you going to put the new year in anywhere, Philip?" said Kate, from the door of the porch.

"I should be the first-foot here, only I'm no use as a qualtagh," said Philip.

"Why not?"

"I'm a fair man, and would bring you no luck, you know."

"Ah!"

There was silence for a moment, and then Kate cried "_I_ know."

"Yes?"

"Come for Pete--he's dark enough, anyway."

Philip was much impressed. "That's a good idea," he said gravely. "Being qualtagh for Pete is a good idea. His first New Year from home, too, poor fellow!"

"Exactly," said Kate.

"Shall I, then?"

"I'll expect you at the very stroke of twelve."

Philip was going off. "And, Philip!"

"Yes?"

Then a low voice, so soft, so sweet, so merry, came from the doorway into the dark, "I'll be standing at the door of the dairy."

Philip began to feel alarm, and resolved to take for the future a lighter view of his duties. He would visit "The Manx Fairy" less frequently. As soon as the Christmas holidays were over he would devote himself to his studies, and come back to Sulby no more for half a year.

But the Manx Christmas is long. It begins on the 24th of December, and only ends for good on the 6th of January. In the country places, which still preserve the old traditions, the culminating day is Twelfth Day.

It is then that they "cut off the fiddler's head," and play valentines, which they call the "Goggans." The girls set a row of mugs on the hearth in front of the fire, put something into each of them as a symbol of a trade, and troop out to the stairs. Then the boys change the order of the mugs, and the girls come back blindfold, one by one, to select their goggans. According to the goggans they lay hands on, so will be the trades of their husbands.

At this game, played at "The Manx Fairy" on the last night of Philip's holiday, Csesar being abroad on an evangelising errand, Kate was expected to draw water, but she drew a quill.

"A pen! A pen!" cried the boys. "Who says the girl is to marry a sailor?

The ship isn't built that's to drown her husband."

"Good-night all," said Philip.

"Good-night, Mr. Christian, good-night, sir," said the boys.

Kate slipped after him to the door. "Going so early, Philip?"

"I've to be back at Douglas to-morrow morning," said Philip.

"I suppose we shan't see you very soon?"

"No, I must set to work in earnest now."

"A fortnight--a month may be?"

"Yes, and six months--I intend to do nothing else for half a year."

"That's a long time, isn't it, Philip?"

"Not so long as I've wasted."

"Wasted? So you call it wasted? Of course, it's nothing to me--but there's your aunt----"

"A man can't always be dangling about women," said Philip.

Kate began to laugh.

"What are you laughing at?"

"I'm so glad I'm a girl," said Kate.

"Well, so am I," said Philip.

"Are you?"

It came at his face like a flash of lightning, and Philip stammered, "I mean--that is--you know--what about Pete?"

"Oh, is that all? Well, good-night, if you must go. Shall I bring you the lantern? No need? Starlight, is it? You can see your way to the gate quite plainly? Very well, if you don't want showing. Good-night!"

The last words, in an injured tone, were half lost behind the closing door.

But the heart of a girl is a dark forest, and Kate had determined that, work or no work, so long a spell as six months Philip should not be away.

III.

One morning in the late spring there came to Douglas a startling and most appalling piece of news---Ross Christian was constantly seen at "The Manx Fairy." On the evening of that day Philip reappeared at Sulby.

He had come down in high wrath, inventing righteous speeches by the way on plighted troths and broken pledges. Ross was there in lacquered boots, light kid gloves, frock coat, and pepper and salt trousers, leaning with elbow on the counter, that he might talk to Kate, who was serving. Philip had never before seen her at that task, and his indignation was extreme. He was more than ever sure that Grannie was a simpleton and Caesar a brazen hypocrite.

Kate nodded gaily to him as he entered, and then continued her conversation with Ross. There was a look in her eyes that was new to him, and it caused him to change his purpose. He would not be indignant, he would be cynical, he would be nasty, he would wait his opportunity and put in with some cutting remark. So, at Caesar's invitation and Grannie's welcome, he pushed through the bar-room to the kitchen, exchanged salutations, and then sat down to watch and to listen.

The conversation beyond the gla.s.s part.i.tion was eager and enthusiastic.

Ross was fluent and Kate was vivacious.

"My friend Monty?"

"Yes; who is Monty?"