Chapter 26

TRUE YORKSHIRE GRIT.

'Can I see my father, sir?' said George.

'Yes, of course, my lad. Go in. He won't know you, but you may go in,' said his uncle.

Mrs Clay sat watching beside her husband, who lay on his improvised couch in the sitting-room, and she looked up dully when her son came in. 'They've killed 'im this time, George,' she said.

'I hope not, mother. He'll pull through this,' replied her son.

But his mother shook her head. ''E'll never get over bein' bested by the men. 'E's always been so masterful all 'is life, an' they've mastered 'im at last,' she declared.

'I don't know so much about that. Father said I was to stop at home and help him, and I mean to do it, and see if things can't be straightened out again,' said George, with youthful confidence.

Mrs Clay looked at her son proudly. 'You've the same spirit as your father, though you've never shown it before; but this coil's too 'ard for you to untwist, lad. You'd best leave it to your uncle Bill; 'e'll do the best 'e can for us all, an' there'll always be a bite an' a sup for us while 'e lives. But Clay's Mills are a thing of the past now, lad.'

Sarah, who, without asking leave of any one, had followed her brother into the sick-room, broke in now. 'We're not going to live on charity, mother. If we really are poor I shall just work in a mill, that's all. I won't live on any one else, not even Uncle Howroyd.'

Her mother and brother both gave her a warning glance.

George said in low tones, 'It's no good exaggerating the misfortune. We have met with losses, and my father may not be a millionaire at this moment; but I hope we may not long trespass on Uncle Howroyd's hospitality, though there is no talk of living on charity.'

As he said this his father opened his eyes, and it seemed to George that there was a gleam of consciousness in them. He bent over the sick man, and said in low, clear tones, 'Father, I'll do my best to keep the mills going. That is your wish, is it not?'

''E can't 'ear, George,' sighed his mother.

'I think he understood,' declared George; and though the others did not agree with him, they said no more to discourage the young man.

'Come, Sarah,' George said gently to his sister, as he drew her out of the room with him, 'you'll have to help me to put all this business right.'

'I? What can I do? I know nothing about accounts, you know,' cried Sarah, secretly pleased, all the same, at the idea of being of use.

'You are often down at Uncle Howroyd's, and I hear you talking of "fettles and pieces," and goodness knows what all,' observed George.

Sarah laughed. 'I suppose you mean fettlers (people who clean the machines) and piecers (those who join the pieces of wool or yarn together when it breaks),' she explained.

'There! You see I don't even know these words, and if I have to go into accounts and details I must know them, or I shall be showing my ignorance, and the people will have no confidence in me,' returned George.

'But those foreigners don't understand you. What will you do with them?' inquired Sarah.

'Nothing. I shall send them off the minute this contract is done,' said George. 'That is to say, if Uncle Howroyd approves.'

'What are you going to do with my approval, my lad?' demanded William Howroyd, coming in and putting his hand for a moment kindly on his nephew's shoulder.

Sarah was struck by his serious and troubled face. She wondered whether it was anxiety for his brother's health or sorrow for the misdeeds of the Ousebank men. She did not know that there was a third reason added to these two; but she soon was to know it.

'I want to pack off those men as soon as the contract we have in hand is finished,' said George.

'They've saved you and me any trouble, George, lad. They've discharged themselves,' said Mr Howroyd gravely.

George looked at his uncle aghast. 'You mean that the foreigners have gone--without a minute's warning?' he asked.

'They have that,' replied Mr Howroyd.

'But why did they suddenly do that? They seemed to go back to work willingly enough after their dinner,' said George.

'It seems they had some means of communicating with the outside world. When they heard of your poor father's illness, and were told he was ruined, and his house even burnt down, they decided to leave a sinking ship,' said Mr Howroyd.

'Uncle Howroyd, do you think it is a sinking ship?' inquired Sarah.

Mr Howroyd considered a little; but, being a man who thought honesty always the best policy, he replied frankly, 'I think we shall save enough out of the wreck to keep you afloat; but I think Clay's Mills must shut.'

'I don't understand that, sir. Of course, I know that we must have lost a good deal by the fire, and this contract, too, will be a serious loss; but there is the insurance of the house, and I understand that, thanks to you and other kind helpers, a good deal was saved at Balmoral,' observed George.

'That is so, my lad; but the trouble is--and that's what caused your father's illness--the house was not insured,' said Mr Howroyd.

'Oh, but, uncle, it was. I happen to know, because father said the insurance he paid would keep a family comfortably,' interrupted Sarah.

'I know, and so I thought; but, owing to threats they received, saying it was going to be burnt down, the company asked such a heavy premium that your father refused to pay it, and said he'd take precautions instead. It was a mad thing, and no one but him would have dared to do it. And now, what are you going to do with an empty mill, whose hands have all struck, and whose head is lying unconscious?' inquired Mr Howroyd kindly but discouragingly.

The brother and sister had drawn closer to each other instinctively in this their first trouble, for trouble it was to both.

'If we give up the mills, what have we to live on? I don't know my father's affairs, but I imagine he has a large capital,' said George.

'It's difficult to explain to you, but most of it was in the mills. I expect that you will have a few hundreds a year when the business is wound up. But things have not been so prosperous as they have appeared of late with your father, and he spent freely,' replied Mr Howroyd.

George sat silent after this; but Sarah suddenly exclaimed, 'George, don't give it up! Open the mills again, and try to keep them going with the old hands. I know you could, with Uncle Howroyd's help, and I'll stop at home and help you all I can, and take care of mother.'

George gave his sister a swift glance, and then appealed to his uncle. 'What do you say, sir? Is it any use my trying?'

'My lad,' said Mr Howroyd in a moved tone of voice, 'if you had asked me that question a month ago I should have told you to go back to your Greek and your Latin at college, and leave blanket-making to those who know what they are doing; but if you like to try, I'll not be the one to stop you. It won't be much worse if you fail.'

'Oh, but he won't fail.--Will you, George?' cried Sarah.

'I hope not; I can but try,' said George.

But the two enthusiasts had a sudden check when they informed their mother.

'George run the mills! You don't know w'at you are talkin' about.--That's your doin', Sarah; you 've always some maggot in your 'ead.'

'But Uncle Howroyd said he might try,' said Sarah.

'Your uncle Howroyd's kindness itself, an' generous to a fault. Don't you see you'd be runnin' them on 'is credit? Who'd trust George if they thought 'e was responsible? An' if your uncle Howroyd stan's surety 'e runs to lose 'eavily,' said Mrs Clay, who knew something about business.

'I never thought of that,' said Sarah slowly.

'Mother, you know that a certain sum was settled on me when I came of age, and was not invested in the business,' said her son.

'Yes, dear; but don't you touch that. You'll only lose it, an' then w'ere will you be?' she protested.

'Where I am now, under the necessity of earning my own living, and that will be no hardship,' said George, with his pleasant smile.

But their mother was not to be persuaded. 'Your father was a wonderful man. You 'aven't 'is talents, though you're dear, good children,' was all she would say.

'My father's talents didn't prevent him from making a horrid mess of things,' began Sarah hotly.

But George silenced his sister, and said to his mother, 'Very well, dear mother, if you do not wish me to try to carry on father's business for him till he is able to take it up again himself, then I will not do so; but I shall ask Uncle Howroyd to take me into his mill to learn the business of a blanket-maker. I mean to be sooner or later.'

Mrs Clay looked at her son in amazement. 'You, George! But all your book-learnin'--w'at are you goin' to do wi' all that? Is it all goin' to be wasted? All your beautiful, expensive education an' all?' she expostulated. 'An' Sarah, too, talkin' o' stayin' at 'ome an' 'elpin'! She'll 'ave to go to some school, though I doubt whether we can afford her present one.'

'I don't think that school is much loss to Sarah, though it seems to have suited Miss Cunningham. But as for my book-learning, I mean to try to apply it to manufacturing; and if it is not much use there, as I fear it won't be, still no knowledge is lost, and I shall always have my books and the pleasure of reading,' remarked George.

'Well, my dear, you must do as you think best. If you could do such a thing as keep the mills goin' till your father was about again, 'twould be a grand thing, an' give 'im new life w'en 'e came to 'imself, an' I've no right to be a 'indrance in your way; so do as you wish, dear, an' God bless you for a dear, good boy!' said his mother, after some argument.

'Come along Sarah, let's go and look at our mills. It's rather disgraceful, but, do you know, I've never been over the whole of them before,' said George.

'It will be dreadful to see them empty and "playing," as the people say,' said Sarah.

'Please, sir,' said Naomi, 'the French _chef_ is here, and wants a month's wages and compensation for loss, he says.'

George paused on the threshold. 'I thought Sykes was seeing to all that, and housing the people till we could settle with them?' said George.

'He says he wishes to leave this country of savages at once,' said Naomi, with a toss of her head.

'I expect there's money in the till at the mills,' said Sarah.

'I'll write him a cheque on my own bank, and I shall be thankful to eat no more of his elaborate messes,' observed George; and he did so, though the cheque was a much bigger one than he had expected, and the operation had to be repeated till most of the servants were satisfied, after which George said, with a laugh, to his sister, 'I hope Sykes and Naomi and Tom Fox won't present their bills, for, to tell the truth, I've used up all my balance, and rather more.'

'Have you paid every one else?' asked Sarah.

'Yes; and I had no idea we had such an army to wait upon us. You've no idea what the total comes to,' said George, as he ruefully totalled it up.

'There must be lots of money somewhere,' said Sarah vaguely.

'Ah, now you begin to understand what poverty means,' said George. 'It's not quite so lovely, is it, after all?'

Sarah did not choose to answer this taunt, and was saved from the necessity of doing so by the announcement that Tom Fox and Sykes the butler were outside.

'I shall have to overdraw and realise some money,' observed George to his sister, after he had told Naomi to show them in.

'And please, sir, they speak for me, if you'll excuse me,' said Naomi as she ushered them into the room.

Sarah was surprised to find how disappointed and hurt she felt at this cupidity on the part of Naomi, and she would not look at her at all.

'Ah, Sykes, you want your wages? How much will that be?' said George, quiet and pleasant as usual.

'No, no, Mr George, I didn't come for them, sir. If you'll excuse me, sir, and not think it a liberty, but I've a nice house, a biggish house, though 'tis a cottage compared to Balmoral of course; but it's lying empty, and it would be convenient to have it used, and I'm going there myself to-night, and if you'd condescend for the next few months'----said Sykes, with much clearing of his throat and apologetic coughs.

'That's exceedingly kind of you, Sykes,' cried George, much touched. 'Where is this house?'

'Right opposite Balmoral, on the hill, Mr George. It touches the grounds, and what I was thinking was, you could make a gate into the grounds, and you'd be like in your own park, same as before.'

'I know the house. It's a big one, as you say. You've made money, then, Sykes?'

'Yes, sir; the master was always liberal, and I've saved, and done well in investments. I'd be pleased to wait on you, same as before. And Tom Fox here---- Why don't you speak up, Tom?' urged Sykes.

'I'd be glad to remain in your service, Mr George, and motor you down to town, as I hear you are taking on the business. I saved the motors, all on 'em,' said Tom.

'I don't know how to thank you, my friends, except by accepting your offers with all my heart; and if the mills pay all right you must take shares,' said George, with his winning smile.

'Well, we've got three servants and a motor, so far,' said Sarah; 'because, of course, Naomi is going to stay, and it will be very nice to be still on the hill instead of living in Ousebank. I hate Ousebank'.

George wanted to remind Sarah that she had hated Balmoral; but he decided not to cast up the past, as she was so much improved, so he only said, 'Yes, I've often looked at that Red House, and wondered whose it was, and who would come and live in it. I little thought that it would be ourselves.'

'It reminds me of the Bible,' observed Sarah abruptly.

'What does?' asked George. 'The Red House?'

'No; all the other servants fleeing like the hireling, but our own Yorkshire servants staying with us, and offering their services and houses, and all.'

'There's another text it makes me think of,' said George reverently, 'and that is to put your trust in God.'