SARAH BECOMES A BUSINESS WOMAN.
Mr Howroyd had not been gone very long when George came in, his usually
calm, unruffled brow puckered, and his face wearing a worried look. 'I
say, Sarah, I'm afraid I've been very presumptuous in undertaking to
carry on my father's business,' he said.
'What has happened? Aren't they behaving all right?' inquired Sarah,
looking anxiously at him.
'Oh, the hands? Yes. Hurst, the manager, says they have come back in a
good spirit, and are working all they know to get the contract done. He
says he never saw smarter work,' George told her.
'Then I don't see what you are worrying about,' said Sarah, laughing, as
she added, 'I expect they want to show that they are as good as any
"Frenchies," as they call the foreigners.'
'But that isn't the trouble; it's father's customers and the people he
has done business with. Some of them have called in and intimated pretty
plainly that they don't mean to have any dealings with me,' he observed.
'How horrid of them! They might at least have waited to see how you got
on,' exclaimed Sarah in great indignation.
'Well, it was rather my own fault. I suppose they can't afford to wait
and see how things go in business. They began talking about business
deals, and using all sorts of terms which, I suppose, are current in the
wool-trade, and I let them see that I didn't understand anything about
it,' said George.
His face was so melancholy and his forehead so wrinkled that Sarah burst
into a hearty laugh.
'It's no laughing matter; it spells ruin to us if our clients--customers,
I mean--fight shy of us, and we shall be worse off than if I had never
meddled with the matter,' he said severely.
'I am very sorry, George; but I could not help it; it is so funny for you
to be so worried and fidgety. Why didn't you say Uncle Howroyd would
stand surety, and refer them to Hurst? He has been manager for years, and
father used to say that Hurst knew as much about the business as he did
himself. If I were you I'd get him to write a circular-letter to all
those people, and say that in father's temporary absence from business he
is managing for you by Mr Howroyd's advice.'
'I never thought of it. I'm very unfit for all this. I like the dyeing
and the chemical part of the business; but what all these men said was
Chinese to me. I wish you'd just tell me what some of these words mean,'
he said, as he sat down to the table and began questioning his sister.
'I can tell you a good deal, because, you see, I am always down at Uncle
Howroyd's, and he lets me go into his office and talk to him while he is
working. I've often seen the other merchants and buyers come in; but it
seemed quite simple; they just ordered what they wanted, and Uncle
Howroyd put the pieces on.'
'Put the pieces on what?' inquired George. 'Don't laugh; tell me what
that means.'
'Put the pieces to be made on to the machines--the lengths of blanketing
or cloth,' said Sarah.
'Excuse me, Mr George, but Mr Blakeley is here,' said Ben the
gate-keeper, coming into the office.
'Who is Mr Blakeley?' inquired George.
'He's one of our buyers, sir,' replied the man.
'Oh George, I know him! Do have him shown in here,' entreated Sarah. 'He
is such a nice, good-humoured man.'
But circumstances alter cases, and Sarah was surprised to find that the
good-natured Mr Blakeley, whom she always saw smiling and ready to
complete a deal with her Uncle Howroyd, became a brusque, serious
business man with her brother.
'I have an order on hand here, Mr Clay; but I should prefer if you will
allow me to cancel it. I understand that there are changes in the mills,
and it is rather particular that it should be woven exactly as it was,'
he said, after having made some curt and perfunctory inquiries after Mr
Mark Clay's health.
George evidently did not understand what he meant, and was just saying,
with his usual courtesy, 'Oh, certainly; we should not, of course, hold
you to your word.'
But Sarah broke in. She had been used to talk to these men when they came
to see her uncle, and they had all admired the handsome girl, and showed
her attention to please her uncle, who was evidently very fond of her and
proud of his niece. So she felt no shyness with Mr Blakeley, and said,
'What difference do the changes make, Mr Blakeley? My father did not
weave the cloth, and the manager and foremen who looked after these
things are still here.'
Mr Blakeley looked at her, and an amused smile crept over his face at her
business-like tone. 'Quite true, Miss Sarah; but the weavers of this
particular cloth have left, I understand, and I would rather not trust it
to new ones.'
'Of course not,' began George.
But Sarah interrupted again. 'You'd better hear what our manager has to
say. Father won't be pleased if he finds we have sent good customers
away.'
'There's a good business woman for you!' cried Mr Blakeley with a laugh.
''Tis a pity you are not a man; you could go into partnership with your
brother and father.'
Meanwhile George had acted on Sarah's advice, and sent for Mr Hurst, who
came at once. 'There's no call for you to withdraw your order, Mr
Blakeley. We've got the wools you asked for, and there's one of the
weavers who has done your cloth before, so I think you may be easy in
your mind about its being done as well as ever. We're turning out some
fine work, and there's a new shade you might find useful, which perhaps
you'd like to see.'
Mr Blakeley pricked up his ears at the news of a new shade, and went off
quite eagerly with the manager.
George heaved a sigh of relief. 'You pulled us through that time, Sarah;
but it won't always go like that. I can't push.'
'You must, or you'll get pushed to the wall; but I have had another
inspiration since I came down. Why don't you weave a lot of coat-lengths
of that new shade? It's much more suitable for that than for blankets.'
'I thought the same thing when I saw it, and said something of the kind
to father, and he said he should try samples. They were almost the last
words he said to me that day before he left me.'
'It was only yesterday,' observed Sarah.
George stared at her. 'So it was! I can hardly believe it. It seems weeks
ago; but I am glad you reminded me of it, for it will please father to
find we have carried out his wishes, and I think it might "catch on," as
he said.'
'The fact is, you've got dazed with the shock. I believe you felt it more
than I did. I am very sorry for father being ill, and I think the hands
who burnt our house behaved disgracefully, and I'm glad they were turned
off; but I can't help feeling that it was father's own fault, and that
perhaps it will do him good.'
'It's not our business to judge his treatment of his employés. He was a
very liberal father to us,' said George.
'You are not so hard-hearted'----began Sarah; but a prolonged ringing at
the telephone interrupted her.
'It's mother,' she announced, 'and she's calling for you.'
George went and listened. 'Father is conscious, and has asked for us,' he
cried, and his face lightened.
'I'm very glad,' replied Sarah quietly; but her face showed no such joy
as her brother's. It is to be feared that where her father was concerned
Sarah was somewhat hard-hearted.
'We must go at once,' said her brother, taking up his hat.
'I don't think you ought to leave the mill till the dinner-hour. The bell
will ring in a quarter of an hour. Can't you wait till then?' objected
Sarah, who, as is seen, was more business-like than her brother, thanks
to her intercourse with her uncle Howroyd.
'Perhaps you are right. Then you had better go, and say I will be there
almost directly,' he suggested.
Sarah started with mingled feelings. She was glad, really glad, that her
father had recovered consciousness, and was therefore, she supposed,
getting better; but the fact was, Sarah felt very resentful and sore that
he had made himself so hated, and she walked very slowly along the
streets that separated her father's mills from Mr Howroyd's.
''E knows me, Sarah!' cried her mother, whose face was transfigured with
joy. 'Thanks be to God, 'e knows me, my dear 'usband!'
For the life of her, Sarah could not show any great joy, but only
inquired, 'Has he asked for me, or is it only George he wants to see,
mother?'
''E mentioned you both, an' asked w'ere Sally was,' said her mother,
forgetting, in her great relief, the small detail that Sarah disliked
being called so.
'Then I'd better go to him and tell him George will come in as soon as he
can leave the mills,' said Sarah, preparing to go into the sitting-room,
which was still being used as the stricken man's bedroom.
'Don't you say any such thing! Don't you breathe a word about the mills
or Balmoral or anything. 'E's not to be excited, the doctor says. I've
'alf a mind to tell 'im 'e shall see you by-and-by; it would be a
dreadful thing if you were to upset 'im. You don't always get on too well
with your father, Sarah,' Mrs Clay wound up reproachfully.
'I sha'n't say anything to upset father while he is lying there so ill. I
only meant to explain why George did not come at once,' explained Sarah.
'You needn't explain. Sick folk don't want explanations,' objected Mrs
Clay. 'Say George is out.'
'Very well,' agreed Sarah, and she went into the sick-room. It was a
relief not to see her father lying there with unseeing eyes and breathing
so heavily; but, somehow, Sarah felt very uncomfortable under his keen
glance to-day. Still, she managed to say, 'I am glad you are better,
father.'
'Ay, I'm going to get better; but I'll never be the man I was. I've made
a mess of it, Sally, and I shall not leave you the big fortune I meant
you to have to match your pretty face, my little lass. I've not done
right, and I shall never be able to do it now,' said the sick man.
'Yes, you will, father. You will be all right in a few weeks, and you can
make another fortune, and build Balmoral again,' cried Sarah eagerly, as
she impulsively took her father's hand, and then started on finding that
it lay limp in hers.
A spasm passed over the invalid's face at her words; and if Mrs Clay had
not been too much afraid of her husband she would have stopped Sarah and
sent her away. As it was, she gave a little groan from the background, as
much as to say, 'You've done the very thing I told you not to do.'
'There'll never be another Balmoral. It would take me too long, and I
doubt if Clay's Mills will ever be themselves again. I'd like those
fellows to be sent off the minute the contract's done. It'll take them
another week; but I'll be glad to see the backs of them. I wish they'd
never come,' said Mr Clay, who seemed to have a feverish desire to talk.
'They've gone, father,' said Sarah.
But this was too much for Mrs Clay's patience. 'That'll do, Sarah. Your
father's not got to talk business w'ile 'e's so bad.--There, Mark, don't
you worry; everything's going on as well as can be expected,' she said,
in what she thought was a soothing tone.
Her husband waved her aside. 'Let be, Polly! Let the lass speak; I must
know the worst.--So they've gone, the villains! When they thought I was
done for, the rats forsook the sinking ship. Ay, 'twas a bad day for us,
was yon. Well, that ends it! The credit of Clay's Mills has gone for
ever. I'd best not get better. You'll have a little something to live on;
and that's all I've done with my toiling and moiling. I'm best dead,' he
said.
Mrs Clay grasped Sarah's arm in a convulsive grip. 'Don't breathe another
word. I forbid you!'
Sarah felt sure she should do more good by speaking; but she remained
obediently silent.
'It's strange--a sick man's fancy, I suppose--but I thought I heard our
bell. There's no mistaking it. And, hark! there it is again. Am I
light-headed, Polly, or what's that bell I heard?' he asked.
'No, Mark, no, you're not light-headed; it is your own bell. All's goin'
as well as can be expected,' replied poor Mrs Clay.
'What does she mean? Speak up, my lass; why are they ringing my bell?
Speak, I tell you!' he commanded.
So Sarah spoke, and told him what her brother had done.
The mill-owner listened in silence, and Sarah scarcely recognised her
father's voice when he said, 'Thank God, my credit's saved! I don't
deserve such children; but you take after your mother, and she's brought
you up right. I've been a hard man, and I'd have been your ruin if you
hadn't prevented it.' Then he shut his eyes, only to open them and say,
'Tell the hands I'm glad they've come back;' and with a sigh he went off
into a refreshing sleep.
'And, oh George! he was so different, so humble and gentle. It did make
me feel so ashamed of myself,' cried Sarah to her brother when he came in
to lunch.
'I'm glad to hear it. It's about time you were,' announced George.
'You needn't say that now,' said Sarah, 'just when everything is going
all right.'
'I don't know that everything is going all right; in fact, I'm rather
glad I did not come in time to talk to father, for I should not have
given such a glowing account of everything as you have,' he remarked.
'You are dreadfully pessimistic. Of course there are ups and downs in
business; it's only that you are not used to it,' insisted Sarah.
'It's mostly downs at present unfortunately,' said George; and he was to
repeat the remark only too often in the weeks that followed.