Sarah's School Friend Part 5

'Morning, Sarah. What are you going to do to-day? Anything special on?'

he inquired.

'No; at least, I'm not going to do anything special. I believe there's a tennis tournament on at the Haighs'; but I don't feel inclined to go; it's going to be hot to-day, I think.'

'Piping, I should say. Well, if you don't want me to take you to the Haighs' I'll cry off myself; it's a fearful f.a.g playing a tournament in this weather. Good-bye; I'm off,' he added, as he rose from the table.

'Where are you going, George?' inquired Sarah. 'If it's anywhere nice I'll come with you.'

'It isn't,' he replied, and was going out of the room.

'Where is it?' persisted Sarah.

'Into Ousebank,' he replied laconically.

'But that is nice. Take me with you, George.'

'You are the most perverse girl I ever met. You know you hate Ousebank, and yet you call it a nice place to go for a walk,' he scoffed.

'It's interesting. I love to see the mills turn out at twelve o'clock; it's like a living stream of human beings pouring out of a lock-gate, and I love Uncle Howroyd's mill.'

'Well, I sha'n't be there at twelve o'clock, so if that's what you want to go for you'd better stay at home,' observed her brother, who evidently was not very anxious to take his sister with him this particular morning, though, as a rule, he was a most good-natured and attentive brother.

Sarah was quick to notice this, and being the girl she was it made her all the more determined to go with her brother; so she said, 'Ah, but I can go to see Uncle Howroyd, and that's always nice. I simply love going over the mill.'

'Oh!' e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed George, looking discomfited for a moment; and then he apparently changed his mind, and said, 'All right, I'll go there with you.'

But when they got to the door of Mr William Howroyd's office he did not say good-bye, but was coming in with her, when Sarah said, 'You needn't stop for me. I may be here some time. You had better go and do your own business, and come and fetch me on your way back.'

'I think I'll come in,' said George, and in he came.

'Uncle Howroyd, do send George off, and say you'll take care of me for an hour or so; he's so dreadfully polite even to his sister that he won't leave me alone with you,' said Sarah.

'Ah, but I don't know that I can take care of such a difficult young lady,' said her uncle teasingly.

'But I should like to see Uncle Howroyd, too,' objected George.

'That's nonsense! You've only come here to bring me, so if you want to see him you can come another time by yourself, not just when I'm here,'

said Sarah.

'I thought you wanted to see the mill?' observed George.

'And I thought you came to Ousebank to do some business?' retorted his sister.

'So I did.--As a matter of fact, my business was to see you, sir,' said George, turning to his uncle, who had been listening to this argument between the brother and sister with his usual amused look and twinkle in his eye.

But when his nephew made this direct appeal to him, Uncle Howroyd became the alert man of business, kind and keen, and said, 'At your service, nephew.--As for you, Sarah, if your frock isn't too fine for going into a dirty blanket-mill, old Matthew will take you and show you our wonderful new engine, of which we are so proud.'

'I don't care twopence about your grand engine. I hate grand new things.

I'd rather go into the old dyeing-rooms; they have such lovely new shades every time I go,' declared Sarah.

'There! isn't that just like a woman? Hates new things, and wants to go into the dear old dye-rooms to see lovely new shades!' cried her uncle.

Sarah only laughed, as her uncle called old Matthew, the foreman, and told him to take Miss Clay to the dye-rooms and show her all she wished to see, and take care she didn't get her skirts dyed.

'Well, George, anything wrong?' he asked as the door shut upon Sarah, who went off talking in a most friendly manner with old Matthew, and the uncle and nephew were left alone.

'That's what I came to you about,' said George.

Mr William Howroyd looked at his nephew doubtfully. He did not understand him at any time, and this morning the young man spoke in his usual lazy tones, so that his uncle did not know whether George was in any trouble or not; for, as he argued to himself, 'the boy never did show feelings, so that he might be in love or debt or goodness knows what sc.r.a.pe, and yet talk like that;' and Mr William Howroyd had a deeply rooted conviction that all young men did at the universities was to get into mischief of some sort. So he said, 'Come, George, be frank with me. Have you got into any mess? You know if you have I'll be ready to do all I can to get you out of it.'

The young man looked gratefully at his uncle as he replied in his pleasant tones, 'I'm sure you would, uncle, and there's no one I'd sooner come to if I wanted help; but I'm in no mess that I know of. It was only'--he hesitated--'something in your manner last night that made me think there was trouble at the mill either present or looming ahead. I know my father is not popular.'

Mr Howroyd looked a little surprised for a moment; then he said cheerfully, 'Dismiss that notion from your mind. I was a little put out last night by something I heard, and I dare say I said all sorts of disagreeable, sharp things; but there's no danger for your father any more than there is for all of us. Business is not like a profession; you gain more, but you stand to lose more, and it's not so certain as the law, for example. So, if you'll take my advice, you'll go back and study hard, and have a profession at your finger-tips; it never comes amiss to any of us, and there's no harm done if you never follow it.' Then he changed the conversation, and began talking of other things, and was surprised to find what a pleasant and intelligent companion his nephew could be. 'Why, I'd no idea you took such an interest in the heavy woollen trade. It's almost a pity you're not going into it,' cried his uncle at last.

'But that is what I intend doing, in spite of your advice to the contrary,' observed George quietly.

His uncle cast a swift look at him. 'All the same, I should pa.s.s all my law examinations, if I were you, in case--in case you might change your mind,' he observed equally quietly; and then the two got up and went across the mill-yard to the dyeing-rooms to find Sarah, who was still there with Matthew.

George noticed the kindly words of greetings and the friendly glances that pa.s.sed between master and 'hands,' as all the workers are called up north.

'Now, that man's been with us thirty years; he married his wife from here, and his family all work for us; and this one has been fifty years, and only comes once a week just to say he still works at the old mill,'

explained Mr Howroyd.

'That's as it should be,' said George, touching his hat at each greeting, and raising it to an old woman who hobbled past them.

His uncle smiled a little, for such courtesy is not usual in mills, where kind hearts are hidden under rough exteriors and blunt speech; but though the 'hands' smiled, they said to each other, after the uncle and nephew had pa.s.sed by, that 'he was a gentleman was young Clay, and took after his uncle Howroyd more'n his father, that was plain!'

'Oh uncle, why did you come so soon? I didn't want you yet,' cried Sarah when she saw the two at the door.

'Didn't you? It strikes me it's about time we did come. My word, you've got yourself into a nice state, my la.s.s!' exclaimed Mr Howroyd, as well he might, for Sarah, in her interest in the new shades, had gone too near the huge vats and wet materials, and her dress was the colours of the rainbow, while her hands were a deep crimson.

'But just look what a lovely colour this crimson is, George!' she exclaimed, holding up a rag which she had dyed.

George contemplated his sister in silence, and then said, 'We'd better get a taxi to go home, I think;' and added, 'Yes, it's a pretty shade, but I think there's a little too much blue in it to be quite becoming.'

And, turning to the dyer, he began talking pleasantly about dyeing; and when he went away the man remarked to Mr William Howroyd, 'He's a sharp young gentleman is yon, and I think I'll try his advice.'

Meanwhile Sarah was sitting in the cab with her brother, contemplating rather ruefully her stained hands. 'I say, will it come off?' she inquired anxiously.

'Yes, in time, if you use some acid,' replied her brother, looking at her fingers.

'Oh, but I must get them clean by lunch-time, or father will make a row,'

she cried.

'I should advise you to have lunch in your boudoir, as you call it. You can't possibly get all this off at first go. I can't imagine what old Matthew was about to let you get yourself in such a mess. Really, you are very childish for your age, in some ways.'

'What were you talking to Uncle Howroyd about?' demanded Sarah, who did not want to talk about her hands any longer.

'The heavy woollen trade,' replied her brother promptly.