curred. (It is well known that the dignity will only bleed while you
watch it. Avert your eyes, and it instantly dries up.) The diversion,
apparently of a trifling character, had, in truth, an enormous
importance, though the parties concerned did not perceive this till
later. It consisted in the passing of Mrs. Prockter and her stepson,
Emanuel Prockter, up Duck Bank as James and Helen were passing down Duck
Bank.

Mrs. Prockter (who by reason of the rare "k" in her name regarded
herself as the sole genuine in a district full of Proctors) may be
described as the dowager of Bursley, the custodian of its
respectability, and the summit of its social ladder. You could not climb
higher than Mrs. Prockter. She lived at Hillport, and even in that
haughty suburb there was none who dared palter with an invitation from
Mrs. Prockter. She was stout and deliberate. She had waving flowers in
her bonnet and pictures of flowers on her silken gown, and a grey
mantle. Much of her figure preceded her as she walked. Her stepson had a
tenor voice and a good tailor; his age was thirty.

Now, Mrs. Prockter was simply nothing to James Ollerenshaw. They knew
each other by sight, but their orbits did not touch. James would have
gone by Mrs. Prockter as indifferently as he would have gone by a
policeman or a lamp-post. As for Emanuel, James held him in mild,
benignant contempt. But when, as the two pairs approached one another,
James perceived Emanuel furtively shifting his gold-headed cane from his
right hand to his left, and then actually raise his hat to Helen, James
swiftly lost his indifference. He also nearly lost his presence of mind.
He was utterly unaccustomed to such crises. Despite his wealthy
indifference to Mrs. Prockter, despite his distinguished scorn of
Emanuel, despite the richness of Helen's attire, he was astounded, and
deeply impressed, to learn that Helen had the acquaintance of people
like the Prockters. Further, except at grave-sides, James Ollerenshaw
had never in his life raised his hat. Hat-raising formed no part of his
code of manners. In his soul he looked upon hat-raising as affected. He
believed that all people who raised hats did so from a snobbish desire
to put on airs. Hat-raising was rather like saying "please," only worse.

Happily, his was one of those strong, self-reliant natures that can,
when there is no alternative, face the most frightful situations with
unthumping heart. He kept his presence of mind, a