had been aware how it was occupied. And then going to a corner
cupboard, high up in the wall, he pulled a key out of his pocket and
unlocked his little store of wine, and cake, and spirits; and
insisted that they should eat and drink while waiting for Philip,
who was taking some last measures for the security of the shop
during the night.

Sylvia declined everything, with less courtesy than she ought to
have shown to the offers of the hospitable old man. Molly took wine
and cake, leaving a good half of both, according to the code of
manners in that part of the country; and also because Sylvia was
continually urging her to make haste. For the latter disliked the
idea of her cousin's esteeming it necessary to accompany them home,
and wanted to escape from him by setting off before he returned. But
any such plans were frustrated by Philip's coming back into the
parlour, full of grave content, which brimmed over from his eyes,
with the parcel of Sylvia's obnoxious red duffle under his arm;
anticipating so keenly the pleasure awaiting him in the walk, that
he was almost surprised by the gravity of his companions as they
prepared for it. Sylvia was a little penitent for her rejection of
Mr. John's hospitality, now she found out how unavailing for its
purpose such rejection had been, and tried to make up by a modest
sweetness of farewell, which quite won his heart, and made him
praise her up to Hester in a way to which she, observant of all,
could not bring herself fully to respond. What business had the
pretty little creature to reject kindly-meant hospitality in the
pettish way she did, thought Hester. And, oh! what business had she
to be so ungrateful and to try and thwart Philip in his thoughtful
wish of escorting them through the streets of the rough, riotous
town? What did it all mean?