Sarah's School Friend Part 23

'Make me deaf? No fear; I don't stop in here long enough,' he replied, misunderstanding her, and not imagining it was the workpeople she was thinking of.

And again Horatia was silent.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE MILLIONAIRE'S PICNIC.

'Oh dear! my head aches, at any rate,' sighed Horatia when they came out of about the fiftieth room. 'I am glad we are going motoring; it will blow my headache away.'

'Ay, it's a big place, is Clay's,' said the millionaire with an air of satisfaction.

'There's Uncle Howroyd. I'm going to ask him to come with us to-day,'

observed Sarah abruptly.

'What's he wanting?' inquired his half-brother.

Whatever Mr William Howroyd wanted with the millionaire, it did not seem important, for he stopped when Sarah met him, and the two went off together, away from Clay's Mills; and Mr Clay, after waiting a moment to see if his brother was returning, turned to Horatia. 'If you'll excuse me, young lady, I'll give some orders for this afternoon, and tell them to have some pieces done, ready for me to see when I come back. That's the way to get rich, my la.s.s; look after the pieces and the bales'll look after themselves.' And the millionaire, with a hoa.r.s.e laugh, went off to 'look after the pieces.'

Horatia stood at the door looking after him, and scarcely noticed a man who half-smiled and raised his hat. She supposed that he was a man with some manners, which the rest of them did not seem to possess; she had no idea that it was a personal attention to her till he said, 'We're much obliged to you for making t'master listen to us. It's saved a lot o'

trouble for the minute.'

Now, Horatia, as will have been noticed, acted and spoke upon impulse, so she now asked eagerly, 'What trouble has it saved? And why has it only been saved for the minute? Were you all going to strike if he hadn't seen you?'

'Can't say what we mightn't have been obliged to do,' said the man.

'I don't see how you are obliged to do anything unless you like; but was that what they wanted you to do?' persisted Horatia.

'That was one thing. But, see here, missy, if you can speak a word for us, do 'e. They say you can do a lot wi' the master; he's a bit too hard wi' us, and the young uns won't stand it. That's where the trouble will come in.'

'What kind of trouble?' inquired Horatia.

The man did not look at her. He was gray-haired, and had been at Clay's Mills for twenty years, and had an affection for the place. Besides which, he was 'used to the master's ways,' and knew that a good workman earned good wages and need not fear being turned off so long as he did good work; but the younger men hated Mark Clay, and there were fewer old men there than in most mills, for the moment they got ill or showed signs of feebleness in any way they were discharged. Mark Clay lost more than he gained, for they would have kept the younger ones in order. But all this the man did not say to Horatia; he only repeated, 'I can't say what they might not do when their blood's up.'

'But tell me what they say they'll do.'

'Strike,' said the man. 'But you'd best not repeat that,' he added, almost regretting his confidence, and going off for fear of adding more.

'There's a fool's trick you've been at, Sam,' said a comrade, 'a-telling that young lady what the men say. She'll repeat it all to the master.'

'I never breathed a word of their threats. I only said they'd strike, and he knows they've threatened that before.'

'You didn't say a word about what them young lads said they'd do--you know what?' the other demanded. 'They'd be turned off to-morrow if he got wind on 't.'

'D' ye think I'm a fool? Of course I didn't. But I'll tell you what.

They've got som'at in their heads at Balmoral, for that young lady kept on asking what they would do and what trouble there would be if the master didn't do what we asked him,' retorted the first speaker.

The second looked gloomily before him. 'It'll be a bad day for my Tom if them words of his get repeated to the master; and it's nought but lads'

hotheaded talk; they don't mean it.'

'I'm none so sure o' that, mate; but it's best to forget it. Anyway, the master's off gallivanting for the day, and mayhap it'll take his mind off the mills a bit. If he'd do that more frequent it 'u'd be better for all--better for him and better for us,' the man wound up gravely.

In the meantime Sarah had gone to meet her uncle, and invited him to come motoring.

'Me! Nay, la.s.s; I've other fish to fry. I'm not a millionaire like Mark, able to go away and amuse myself all day.'

'Now, uncle, you know that's nonsense; you can get away far more easily than father, because you are not in such a frightful hurry to get rich.

Besides, you can always stop your work to do an act of charity, and it is a real act of charity to come with us to-day,' declared Sarah, tucking her arm in her uncle's.

'Indeed! How's that? Is Tom Fox, the chauffeur, ill, and have I got to do his work?' inquired Mr Howroyd.

'No; and if he were, one of the other chauffeurs could take his place.

You've got to come and sit beside me, so as to prevent any one else sitting beside me, because you are the only one I can bear to have near me,' explained Sarah.

'Upon my word, if I were not your old uncle I should feel quite flattered,' said Mr Howroyd in a joking way; but he grew grave as he added, 'But as it is, my la.s.s, I'm sorry to hear you talk like that.

What's wrong with the others, eh?'

'I don't know that there's anything wrong with them. I think it's me that there's something wrong with,' replied Sarah.

'But I don't understand. Didn't you tell me Miss Horatia was to be of the party? What's gone crooked between you two?' he inquired.

'I don't know; at least, it sounds silly, but I can't bear her being such friends with father. She seems to think everything he does and says all right, and it isn't; it's all wrong, and I think it's horrid of her!'

said Sarah.

'Steady there, my la.s.s. I don't think it's the place of children to criticise their elders at all, and certainly not their fathers; and as for this you tell me about Miss Horatia, why, what would you have her do--abuse her host, and talk against him to his daughter?'

'You don't understand, Uncle Howroyd. Just you come for this picnic, and then see if I am not right,' begged Sarah.

'I sha'n't think that; but I think I'll come, only I must go home and change first, and give some orders for the men,' said her uncle.

'Then I'll come too. I feel as if I shall say something horrid to somebody if I don't.'

'Then you'd best come along with me, for you'll be poor company for the others in this mood;' and he took her back to Howroyd's Mill with him.

An hour later the five started for Fountains Abbey, with a huge hamper strapped on at the back of the car.

'It's a pity you don't appreciate good liquor, Bill, for there's first-cla.s.s champagne there,' said Mark Clay as they spun along.

'I don't know that it is, for I couldn't afford it very often,' remarked his brother cheerfully.

'Pshaw! I've no patience with such rubbis.h.!.+ You could afford it fast enough if you didn't waste all your money in pensioning off half your old incapables and keeping the others at work, and going on as if you ran a mill for the benefit of the hands,' said the millionaire.

'So I do, I hope,' replied his brother, with the same good-humoured twinkle in his eye.

'Then I suppose you'll be giving them all the profits next, and we shall see you working as a hand yourself?' said Mark Clay, in a tone that implied his expectation of such a thing, as, indeed, was the case.