A MILLIONAIRE FOR FIVE MINUTES.
'Oh Sarah, I do 'ope they will come to an agreement! There's a lot o'
discontent goin' on, an' your father is that determined,' sighed little
Mrs Clay.
'Do you think he really is my father?' demanded Sarah.
'W'atever do you mean by talkin' such nonsense?' inquired Mrs Clay,
indignation taking the place of anger for the time.
'Only that one would think he was Horatia's father, to see the way she
goes on, as if she were a daughter of the house,' replied Sarah, her lip
curling.
'Sarah, I'm ashamed o' you showin' such wicked jealousy to that dear
girl. If you got on wi' your father there'd be no occasion for 'er to do
as she does; but if she 'adn't interfered to-night w'at would 'ave
'appened? A strike very likely, an' we're not safe from it yet. There's a
lot o' discontent,' repeated her mother.
'I hate interfering people!' was all Sarah said.
Then there was silence, while both mother and daughter strained their
ears to listen for any sound of voices from without, dreading to hear
Mark Clay's loud, rough voice raised in angry tones. But no sound was to
be heard, and Mrs Clay said after a time, 'I'm glad 'e's listenin' to
'em; it'll do 'em good if they can say their say, even if 'e don't give
way to 'em.'
Horatia meanwhile had tripped away with a light, dancing step, for which
she was very often taken to task, not only at school, where she was told
to walk properly and be more serious, but also by her mother, who said it
was undignified for a girl of fifteen.
Mark Clay walked heavily beside his young companion, scarcely listening
to her chatter--for it must be confessed that Horatia was rather a
chatterbox, or, as her father said, 'had a good deal to say for
herself'--but some words she said caught his ear. 'I dare say they are
envious of your riches. I never cared to be rich before; in fact, I never
thought about money, because we always seem to have everything we want at
home; but since I have been at Balmoral I have envied you your riches,
and thought it was rather unfair that you should have such a lot.'
'Oh, you think I've more than my share, do you, like all the rest of
them? Well, I s'pose it's natural; but I'm not going to share it up for
all that, as they'll pretty soon find out,' replied the millionaire.
Horatia had the sense not to say any more, and, indeed, there was no
time, for they were at the door of the steward's room, where business was
transacted in connection with the employés on the estate, and in this
room were six men standing, cap in hand, near the outer door, which led
into the yard.
Horatia wondered to herself if they kept near that door so as to have a
way of escape in case their master got into one of his passions; but
these sturdy Yorkshiremen were afraid of no one and nothing. Strong,
sturdy, and independent, they stood there, with civil but determined
faces. They were the old mill-hands, and had been with Mark Clay from
boyhood; and among them was Naomi's father.
'Well, men, is t' mill burnt down that I can't even eat my dinner in
peace, but must come at once to speak with you?' inquired Mr Clay.
'Sorry to interrupt your dinner, master; but we know it's a long
business, is that, up at Balmoral, and we've got to take an answer back
to our mates down Ousebank by nine o'clock,' said Naomi's father, who was
evidently the spokesman.
'Oh, and what may you want to know?' inquired Mark Clay in a tone which
did not promise much.
Luke Mickleroyd looked for a moment doubtfully at Horatia. 'It's business
we want to talk, Mr Clay,' he said.
'Have your say, lad, and have done with it. This young lady is going to
judge between us to-night, and the sooner you say what you've got to say
the better we'll be pleased, for our dinner's cooling on the table, and
that's not the way we treat guests up north,' said Mr Clay in a more
conciliatory tone. The reminder of Horatia had done Luke Mickleroyd's
cause a good turn, as he saw.
'Well, master, it's like this, only I doubt little missy there won't
understand aught about it. The young men say there's a lot more boys
taken on in the mill to what there ought to be,' began Luke.
Mr Clay interrupted angrily. 'Ought to be? And who's to settle that but
me?'
'I am, for to-night; you said I might. Do let me feel like a millionaire
just for five minutes!' said Horatia in an undertone, pulling at the
mill-owner's sleeve to make him attend to her.
The millionaire threw himself into the big armchair at the top of the
broad table which divided him from his men, and said with a rough laugh,
'Have your way, lass. I'm rich enough to let you have your whim, if you
don't go too far. Let's see how you'd manage a mill.--Now then, Luke, let
Miss Cunningham hear your tale, and see what she says to it.'
'We've got to deal with you, master,' began one of the others rather
gruffly, for he thought Mark Clay was treating them and their wrongs
lightly.
But Luke Mickleroyd had heard from his daughter Naomi of the influence
Horatia had over the mill-owner, and said, 'I'm spokesman, if you please,
mates.--And this is what we've come to say. There's two men been turned
off because they've been ill, and boys put on in their place.'
'They did no more work than the boys,' observed Mark Clay, 'and took
double the wages.'
'They didn't do quite as much work, 'tis true; but they did it better,
and we always made up by the end of the day between us what they couldn't
manage when 'twas heavy work; but the men say they ain't going to do it
for the boys.'
'No, of course not,' said Horatia impulsively.
'Oh, of course not, you say?--Well, go on,' said Mr Clay.
'And these men have got wives and families to support, and who'll take
them on if they're turned out of Clay's Mills for not being able to do
their work?'
[Illustration: 'We've come to say there's two men been turned off because
they've been ill, and boys put on in their place.' PAGE 132.]
'I've nought to do with that. Business is business, and you can't mix
sentiment up with it,' said the master.
'But, then, some one will have to support them,' said Horatia.
'The rates will,' said Mr Clay.
'Well, you pay the rates, so you may just as well keep them at the mills;
the work gets done, and it makes no difference to you whether their
friends help them to do it or not, and, you see, it won't get done with
those boys, because the men won't help them. So, I say, take the two men
back.--And, oh! I do think it kind of you men to do their work, and come
and speak up for them,' wound up Horatia.
Mr Clay gave her a glance. The plain little face was lit up by animation,
and he smiled. Then he turned to the men. 'Very good, lads; you hear what
the young lady says. I promised her her way, and she shall have it.' Here
his face grew stern. 'But it's to her I've given way, not to my men,
remember that. What Mark Clay does is done, and won't be undone; and
there's no parleying between master and man in Clay's Mills; so the next
time the men want to come up to see me, tell them it's no good; Mark Clay
receives no deputations from his men. If they don't like his ways they
can leave him; it's as they like.'
'We're not likely to do that without we're forced. We've worked for you,
man and boy, these thirty years, some of us, Mr Clay,' said Luke
Mickleroyd.
'I sha'n't force you. I know good workers when I've got 'em, and give 'em
good wages, too,' said Mr Clay. And this was quite true, and no better
work was turned out of any mill than that done by Clay's Mills.
'We thank you for receiving us to-night, master.--And we are much obliged
to you, miss, for your kind words,' said Luke Mickleroyd.
The millionaire rose from his seat. 'And now, I suppose, we can go and
have our dinner?' he said sarcastically.
'Good-night, Mr Clay.--Good-night, miss,' said the men, and they filed
out into the yard.
The millionaire grunted something which might be interpreted to be a
farewell, and turned to walk out of the other door. He did not wait to
let Horatia pass out first; indeed, he had never even offered her a seat,
though he had sat down himself, these courtesies not being in his way.
Horatia, however, did not seem to notice the want of politeness, but said
a bright goodnight to the deputation, and followed her host out of the
room.
Sykes was waiting at the back-door, watching the door of the steward's
room; and beside him was Naomi, and the moment the men appeared she ran
forward and said, 'Has he given in, father?'
Sykes followed, and came up in time to hear Luke Mickleroyd reply, 'Yes,
he's given way this time, lass.'
'That's a good job! Well, go on into the servants' hall, and have a drink
to celebrate the good news. I must make haste and serve the rest of the
dinner. And another time do you take and come a little later and give a
man a chance to have his dinner in peace,' said Sykes, hurrying off.
'I think we'll be going on to give the answer. I don't feel in no mood
for drink,' said Luke.
'Why not, lad? All's well that ends well, and we've got our way this
time,' said one of the others.
'Ay, we've got it this time; but we sha'n't get it next, without that
young lady works miracles, same as she seems to do wi' Mark Clay,'
replied the man gloomily.
'Tell us about it, father. She's really jolly, ain't she? Whatever did
she go to see you for? She's a caution, is Miss Horatia!' exclaimed
Naomi.
'She's a real good young lady, and wanted to do the family and us men a
good turn. Now, if he'd got a daughter like that!' said Luke.
'Oh, come, father, I'm not going to have a word said against Miss Sarah.
She's not gay like Miss Cunningham, 'tis true; but she's as grieved
['grieved' means 'vexed' in Yorkshire] about the way her father carries
on as can be, only she's too much of a lady to go putting herself in a
man's place,' said Naomi, defending her young mistress hotly.
'The other's more of a lady if you go by blood,' put in Tom Fox, who was
a staunch admirer of Horatia since the affair of the motor, and had heard
from Cunningham's chauffeur who Horatia was.
'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 hoarse 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, lass, 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, God 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 brandishing sticks and things.'
'Oh my dear! we ain't come to that, an', please God, 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 Yorkshiremen?' 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.'