Sarah's School Friend Part 35

Sarah expected her to protest with tears; but she did nothing of the kind. 'I believe,' mused Sarah, 'that she cares more for father's safety than she does for George's!' And this idea was so surprising to her that she, too, let her brother go without a protest. Not that arguments would have been any good, as his sister knew.

'That boy has more grit in him than I suspected,' said George's uncle, as he watched his nephew walk with his deliberate gait out at the gate towards the notorious mills.

'I'd have given something to go with him to see what will happen when they turn him back. George is awfully obstinate, uncle; I dare say he'll stand there and argue with them till they let him through because they're sick of him and his polite requests to be allowed to go into his own father's mills,' observed Sarah.

Mr Howroyd laughed, though it was not his usual cheery laugh. 'He'll be a cleverer fellow than I take him for if he gets past that picket, will George.'

However, half-an-hour later the telephone rang. 'It's from Clay's Mills,'

Mr Howroyd informed them, 'and they're calling for you, Polly.'

'Oh dear, 'ave they 'urt 'im?' Mrs Clay cried, and flew to the telephone.

'It's George,' she announced in accents of surprise; 'an' 'e says father is quite well, an' very glad to see 'im, an' 'e shall stay a bit.'

'How did he get in? Ask him that, mother,' demanded Sarah, who was naturally curious on the point.

''E says 'e walked in,' repeated her mother.

Sarah went to the receiver herself. 'Nonsense; he couldn't.--How did you get past the pickets, George?'

'Walked past, I tell you. They argued a little, but I told them I was on their business as well as my own, and they let me walk in. They're awfully good fellows, really, and you all exaggerate their ferocity.'

Suddenly Naomi came running into the room. Howroyd's house was not so ceremoniously ordered as Balmoral; but still Sarah was a little surprised at Naomi, till she said, 'There's a balloon-s.h.i.+p up above Ousebank, and you never saw such a funny thing in your life. Come and see it, Miss Sarah.'

'I suppose she means an air-s.h.i.+p,' said Sarah; but as she had nothing else to do, and time was hanging heavy on her hands, she followed Naomi into the garden. 'Yes, it is an air-s.h.i.+p,' she said. 'I wonder what it is doing up here.'

'It's going towards the hill--over Balmoral. We shall see where it goes if we go up to the roof, Miss Sarah,' said Naomi, who had never seen such a thing before, and was all agog with curiosity.

To please her, Sarah went up to the roof lookout.

'Yes, it is over Balmoral, and they seem to be descending and doing manoeuvres over the house. I suppose they are going to look at it closer; but they won't be allowed in to-day, for Sykes is suspicious of a bird even. We really might be in Russia, to judge by the state of siege we are in,' she observed.

She had still more reason to make the comparison a little later, for as the two stood and watched and commented on the movements of the air-s.h.i.+p something dropped from it.

'What was that, Miss Sarah?' asked Naomi.

'Fire! They've outwitted us after all!' said Sarah, and she fled downstairs as hard as she could.--Uncle Howroyd, ring up the fire-brigade. They've set fire to Balmoral!' she panted.

[Ill.u.s.tration: As the two stood and watched the air-s.h.i.+p something dropped from it.]

'How do you know? Who told you so?' he inquired, evidently unbelieving, as well he might, for there was a posse of police guarding the house and grounds.

'We have seen it. They dropped fire out of an air-s.h.i.+p. Do send for the brigade!' cried Sarah, stamping her foot with rage at the delay.

For a moment her uncle stared at her in stupefaction; then he clapped his hand to his forehead. 'It's that agitator scoundrel that's put them up to it!' he cried; and he rang up the brigade, only to drop the receiver with a gesture of despair. 'They've had a call some miles off,' he cried.

'Uncle Howroyd, we must do something.'

'Yes,' he agreed. 'Wait a bit.'

Presently Sarah heard the mill-bell ring, and saw her uncle standing bareheaded at a window looking on his yard, in which the hands summoned from their work were gathered.

'My friends of many years, I have to ask a favour of you. My brother's house is burning, and the brigade is away. Who'll help to save a Yorks.h.i.+reman's home, however much he has blundered, for a Yorks.h.i.+re family?'

'We will, Mr William,' cried a hundred voices, and five minutes later there was not a man to be seen in the yard; but Sarah and Naomi, who had climbed to the lookout, saw them hurrying up the road to the hill on which Balmoral stood.

Flames were coming out of the top windows.

'They may save the lower part,' said Sarah.

'The marble staircase won't burn, will it?' asked Naomi.

Sarah laughed hysterically. 'No; but it won't be much use alone,' she remarked.

'It's going to be a big fire,' observed Naomi in an awe-struck voice.

'I'm glad my father is not there,' was Sarah's apparently irrelevant reply.

Naomi was surprised for the second time that day at Sarah's solicitude for her father. She did not know that her dream had something to do with it. Besides, Mr Mark Clay, boastful and bl.u.s.tering, was a different man from Mark Clay a prisoner in his own mills, with his beautiful house burning.

'Oh miss, the royal suite is on fire! See!' cried Naomi, as she saw the flames come out of that wing.

Sarah said nothing; but her lips tightened as she saw the wanton destruction of her home, and, now that she came to think of it, there were countless treasured possessions of her own there that she wanted to save.

'I wonder if I ought to tell mother?' she asked herself.

But she need not have troubled. Mrs Clay knew, and was talking about it in melancholy accents to Mary, her brother-in-law's maid. 'It's no more than I expected, Mary; an' the mills will go next,' she said.

'Let's hope not, ma'am; and now that Mr William's gone up something may be done to save it,' said Mary, who had great faith in her master.

But Mrs Clay had no faith in any human help; and when Sarah came down she found her mother dry-eyed and resigned. 'Yes, my dear, I know; it's the Lord's will. The Lord gave, an' the Lord taketh away. I began poor, an' I suppose it's 'is will I should end so. Per'aps I lay too great store by riches.'

'Never mind, mother, I'll work for you, and you shall never want, even if I have to scrub floors to support you,' said Sarah.

Mrs Clay shook her head; but the tears came now and relieved her. 'It's for you I care most, dearie. Your 'ands were never made to scrub floors or do any menial work,' she declared, as she stroked Sarah's soft, white hands.

'I don't believe anybody's hands were made to be idle, and I mean to use mine, you'll see,' she said.

'Per'aps it's not so bad as we think. We must 'ave patience,' said Mrs Clay. 'Go an' see 'ow it's goin', my dear.'

CHAPTER XXIV.

GOOD-BYE TO BALMORAL.

It is always the unexpected which happens. Here was Mrs Clay taking the destruction of her cherished possessions quite calmly, and only praying silently, as Sarah saw, that her husband and son might be saved. And here was Sarah getting angrier and angrier as she watched the fire spreading, apparently unchecked, and swallowing up not only the costly treasures for which she did not much care, but her own personal treasures, for which she cared more than she expected.