As they all sat at tea in Alice Rose's house-place, Philip announced
his intended journey; a piece of intelligence he had not
communicated earlier to Coulson because he had rather dreaded the
increase of dissatisfaction it was sure to produce, and of which he
knew the expression would be restrained by the presence of Alice
Rose and her daughter.

'To Lunnon!' exclaimed Alice.

Hester said nothing.

'Well! some folks has the luck!' said Coulson.

'Luck!' said Alice, turning sharp round on him. 'Niver let me hear
such a vain word out o' thy mouth, laddie, again. It's the Lord's
doing, and luck's the devil's way o' putting it. Maybe it's to try
Philip he's sent there; happen it may be a fiery furnace to him; for
I've heerd tell it's full o' temptations, and he may fall into
sin--and then where'd be the "luck" on it? But why art ta going? and
the morning, say'st thou? Why, thy best shirt is in t' suds, and no
time for t' starch and iron it. Whatten the great haste as should
take thee to Lunnon wi'out thy ruffled shirt?'

'It's none o' my doing,' said Philip; 'there's business to be done,
and John Foster says I'm to do it; and I'm to start to-morrow.'

'I'll not turn thee out wi'out thy ruffled shirt, if I sit up a'
neet,' said Alice, resolutely.

'Niver fret thyself, mother, about t' shirt,' said Philip. 'If I