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.'