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'We don't go by blood here; we go by money,' said Naomi scornfully; and the other servants laughed.
Mrs Nancy, needless to say, was not there, or this conversation could not have taken place.
Mrs Clay looked up eagerly when the two returned. Sarah, too, looked up, and, though she did not show it, she was just as anxious to hear the result. But neither of them dared to put any questions to Mr Clay.
'Here's a young lady who wanted to be a millionaire for five minutes,' he said, with a hoa.r.s.e laugh.
'W'atever do you mean, Mark?' asked Mrs Clay timidly.
'It's all right, Mrs Clay. Mr Clay agreed to do what they wanted,' said Horatia hastily, to relieve her anxiety.
'Nay, la.s.s, that I didn't. I agreed to do what you wanted, and that's a very different thing, as the men'll find out if they try it on again.
There's only one will in Clay's Mills, and one person to have any wants,'
said the mill-owner.
'What does he mean about your being a millionaire for five minutes?'
demanded Sarah, who did not want her father to begin a tirade about Clay's Mills and his rights.
'I just wanted to be a millionaire for five minutes, and Mr Clay let me.--You _are_ good-natured to me!' Horatia said, turning to her host and beaming at him.
'And you used that five minutes' power to give the men their way? They'll always want it now,' said Sarah slowly.
'That's what I'm a bit afraid of; but I'll teach them a lesson next time,' said Mr Clay grimly.
'Oh Mark! don't be 'ard on 'em,' began Mrs Clay.
But Horatia exclaimed, 'He wasn't a bit; he was very nice, and has taken two delicate men with families back into the mills.--I must see these mills, Mr Clay,' said Horatia.
'So you shall to-morrow, if you like, and then you'll see them two fettlers doing their work, as if they'd all day to fettle one machine,'
replied Mr Clay.
'What's a fettler, and what is to fettle a machine?' inquired Horatia with interest. 'I think I've heard that word before.'
'Clean it up, and if they don't do it sharp while the machine is going there's an accident, and they get caught in the works, and that's what'll likely happen to them two, and you'll feel sorry then you had them back,'
he replied.
It was late when they had finished dinner, and the mill-owner said 'Good-night' when his wife and the girls left the dining-room.
'Oh my dear, G.o.d bless you!' cried Mrs Clay when they were in the drawing-room, as she took Horatia's hand in hers.
'I didn't do anything; I just amused myself,' said Horatia, laughing.
'But I expected to see quite different men. They looked quite quiet and respectable.'
'What did you expect them to look like?' demanded Sarah. 'They were respectable mill-hands, as my father was years ago.'
'But I expected to see wild, fierce men, like those in the French Revolution, demanding their rights, and brandis.h.i.+ng sticks and things.'
'Oh my dear! we ain't come to that, an', please G.o.d, we never shall,'
protested Mrs Clay with a shudder.
'They can look wild and fierce. You've only to watch them at a football-match to see what they'd be like in earnest if they're like that at play,' said Sarah.
'Then I 'ope I shall never see 'em so,' repeated Mrs Clay.
'And that's what you wanted to do--amuse yourself with the sight of infuriated Yorks.h.i.+remen?' said Sarah, whom some demon seemed to possess that evening.
Horatia turned indignantly to her. 'I didn't do it for any such reason. I suppose you think I meddled, and perhaps I did; but I only did it as your friend, Sarah, and I don't think you're very nice,' she said.
'I can't think w'at's come to you, Sally! Don't be so disagreeable. Miss Horatia only means to be kind, and we're all much obliged to 'er,' said Mrs Clay.
'Yes, we are,' said Sarah; 'I expect the men meant mischief; but you have only done good for to-night. There'll be a row, sooner or later, and then father'll have to stand firm or lose his position. Not that I think that would be a bad thing, except for mother's sake. Still, it isn't every one that would use five minutes of being a millionaire just to do good to other people, and you're a good sort, Horatia. So don't mind what I say.
I'm always cross at Balmoral. I can't breathe here.'
CHAPTER XV.
A VISIT TO CLAY'S MILLS.
The next morning dawned bright and sunny, as Sarah saw when Naomi drew up her blinds. She also saw that the girl's face was swollen with crying.
'What is the matter, Naomi?' she asked anxiously, for Sarah was very kind-hearted, and she was very fond of her young maid.
'It's Ruth, miss; she's been took with the croup, and mother's been up all night with her, and the doctor says he doubts if we shall pull her through. And, oh, she's such--a--darling, is Ruth!' Here Naomi burst into tears again.
'Poor little Ruth! I'll go and see her to-day, Naomi, and ask if there is anything we can do for her,' said Sarah; and she dressed with more alacrity than usual, in her desire to go and visit Naomi's home.
Horatia was always up earlier than Sarah, and generally went for a run in the park before breakfast. She had just come in and was sitting at the breakfast-table chattering with Mrs Clay when Sarah appeared, and, with a hurried 'Good-morning' to them both, plunged into the subject of which she was full. 'Naomi's sister is ill, mother. I'm going to see her this morning, so will you, please, go to the mills with Horatia?' she said.
Mrs Clay looked a little vexed. 'Your father will be grieved if you don't go, Sarah. 'E thinks you might go to your own mills sometimes, instead of always goin' to your uncle Howroyd's,' she protested.
'They're not my own mills. I have nothing to do with them. If I had I'd soon alter them,' Sarah replied hotly. 'Besides, Uncle Howroyd's mill is a pleasure to go over; my father's are a pain.'
'Oh Sarah, you do say such things! An' w'at-ever you mean I don't know 'alf the time. I'm sure there's no need to go over more of the mills than you like. You can stop before you get a pain, if that's w'at you mean,'
Mrs Clay added doubtfully, for Sarah had begun to laugh.
'It's not a pain in my body, mother; it's a pain in my mind that they give me.--But I would have gone with you to-day, Horatia,' she observed, turning to her schoolfellow, 'if my maid Naomi's sister had not been taken ill; but I must go and see how she is. And I shall take Naomi with me, and let her have a holiday for the rest of the day,' she announced.
Mrs Clay did not rebuke her daughter for taking it upon herself to give a servant a holiday, any more than she did for settling her plans for the day without any reference to her mother; but only said plaintively, 'W'at's the matter with little Ruth? I suppose it's nothin' catchin', or they'd 'ave told me first; but still, I do think I should be more use than you, Sarah; you don't know anythin' about sickness. W'at 'as Ruth got?'
'Croup, and I thought I'd take her some jelly or something; children always like jelly,' said Sarah.
'Jelly--when the poor child can't swallow, very like! You'd better by 'alf let me go, Sarah; the poor mother'll not 'ave a moment to talk to you if the child's really bad, an' you'll only find yourself in the way.
You go with Horatia to the mills, an' I'll call at Mickleroyd's an' do w'at I can do for 'em.'
'Martha Mickleroyd won't stand on ceremony with me, and I'm not so ignorant as you think about croup. You have to put the child in hot water. We had first-aid and domestic lessons at school. Besides, I promised Naomi I'd go, so I must,' declared Sarah in such a determined tone that Mrs Clay, who never could oppose any one for long, gave way with a sigh.