'A MIRACLE.'
It was some weeks after the events related in the last chapter, and
George was looking years older, so his mother told him.
'Nay, lad, you must let me help you,' said Mr Howroyd. 'I've a few
thousands lying idle, and you'll want them to keep the mills going for
the next few weeks.'
'Do you mean to say it costs a thousand a week to keep the mills going?'
cried Sarah.
'It does that, lass, and I hear you've no orders coming in,' replied her
uncle.
'Then what's the good of their doing work if no one will buy it?' said
Sarah, whose enthusiasm had died out, and who was now as pessimistic as
her brother.
'Have it done ready for buyers. We often have to fill our warehouses in
bad times till we can find a market for our goods; and as George won't go
and ask for orders'----began his uncle.
'I really could not, Uncle Howroyd. I should feel like a beggar,'
protested George.
'Then you must sit here and wait till buyers come; it's only a case of
holding out long enough. Hurst is a good man, and a first-rate manager. I
don't know why the buyers have left you. I'm afraid it's some mischief
that's been made over the trial of the young men for firing the house,
and their heavy sentence. It has not done Clay's Mills any good.'
'I know that, uncle, and that's why I don't want to take your money. It's
only throwing good money after bad,' said George.
'Haven't I got any money?' inquired Sarah.
Mr Howroyd laughed as he said, 'Not yet. You'll have all that and more
when I'm dead and gone.'
'And I hope that will be never!' cried Sarah impetuously.
'Then you'd better take this money now. I've neither chick nor child, so
it's yours,' he said with his cheery smile.
'George, I think you'd better. Taking it from Uncle Howroyd is not taking
charity,' said Sarah.
'I should think not,' put in her uncle.
George let himself be persuaded, in spite of his firm conviction that
feeling was so strong against Clay's Mills and their owners, and that
they were practically being boycotted by the buyers.
And he was right. The weeks dragged on, and since the big contract, which
had been finished and sent off to time, thanks to the goodwill of the
hands, no order of any importance had come in, and George heard of them
being placed elsewhere in the town.
'It's no good, Sarah,' he said one day. 'I knew we were done for when I
read that article in the paper about ill-gotten gains, and there have
been others since.'
'Is Uncle Howroyd's money gone?' inquired Sarah.
'Practically, and the warehouses are full. I mind more for father and
the hands; they've come back to us, and everything is going well in the
mills, and Hurst is a good business man; but it's no use making good
cloth if people won't buy it.'
'Hasn't the new dye taken at all?' inquired Sarah.
'Yes, to a certain extent, and it is the only thing we are selling; but
it wants some fashionable person to take it up, and I really couldn't
push it or ask any of my friends,' he observed.
'I might ask Horatia to get her mother to have a costume that colour,'
said Sarah doubtfully; 'but she hasn't written lately. She said they were
coming up north in their motor, and should call and see us all. But I
expect they've read those things that have been written, and don't want
to have anything to do with us now we're ruined, or going to be.'
'In that case you can't possibly write to her. But I wish I knew what to
do. I have even been to see some of the buyers, only to be refused,' said
George a little bitterly.
'Oh, have you really? That was plucky of you, because I know you hate it
so. I do wish something would happen. I hate going into father's room and
having to tell him that things are rather slack. You know the doctor says
he will soon be able to go down to the mills himself, and then he'll know
the truth,' said Sarah, who, it will be observed, had quite changed in
her feelings towards her father.
'Well, they say when things come to the worst they will mend, and things
have come to about the worst with us, so let's hope they will mend,' said
George, rousing himself and trying to speak cheerfully.
'That proverb is rubbish,' said Sarah, with some of her old violence;
'things often come to the worst and just end there.'
'We've done our best, anyway, so we shall have that consolation,'
remarked George.
'How much longer can you hold out?' inquired the practical Sarah.
'Practically I'm at the end of my tether, and was thinking of warning the
hands that the mills may have to shut down at the end of next week.'
'Oh, wait a day, George, and don't do anything without asking father
first; he ought to be asked, and he may think of a way out of the
difficulty,' entreated his sister.
'All right; but a day won't make any difference, unless a miracle
happens,' observed George.
'Father will have been out for his first drive, and will be stronger, for
one thing,' said Sarah. 'And, who knows? a miracle may happen.'
'Lady Grace and Mr and Miss Cunningham to see you, Miss Sarah,' announced
Sykes.
Sarah gave a little cry of joy, and looked significantly at her brother.
'Oh George'----she began.
But he said hastily, 'Don't ask a favour, Sarah. When people come to pay
a call of civility they don't want to be bothered about business.'
'Very well,' said Sarah, who was not so self-willed as she used to be.
Horatia rushed at her. 'Oh Sarah! I am so glad to see you, and so sorry
to see Balmoral--I mean, not to see it. Father wants to look over your
mills, and I want to see your father,' she cried, bubbling over with high
spirits as ever.
Meanwhile Lady Grace and Mr Cunningham were shaking hands with George,
and congratulating him upon his energy and plucky attempt to keep on his
father's business.
'Let's all go down to the mills,' cried Horatia.
'It's dinner-hour now; but if you will stop and have lunch with us we
shall be very glad, and we will go after lunch. It won't be a Balmoral
lunch,' said George, smiling at her.
'All the better; we shall be finished the sooner,' said Horatia,' and the
mills take an awfully long time to see.'
'Then will you come and see father? He does not come down yet, and mother
has her lunch with him; she can't bear to leave him,' said Sarah.
Horatia accordingly went off with Sarah, and found the mill-owner looking
very different; but it was Mrs Clay who seemed the most changed. She
looked years younger, and so quietly happy. Horatia could not understand
it at all, not being given to troubling her head about people's
characters.
After lunch--which, after all, was a very good one, and served in Sykes's
best style, to do honour to the guests--the party drove down to the
mills.
Sarah could not help thinking what a good thing it would be if Lady Grace
Cunningham should take a fancy to this new cloth, she was such a
striking-looking woman, and a well-known figure in society; but the girl
determined not to suggest it, though her heart beat a little quicker when
they were coming to the dyeing-rooms.
Before this they passed the warehouses, and George good-naturedly opened
the doors to let Horatia see more blankets than she would ever see again
in her life.
'How full it is! This place was quite empty when I last came,' she cried
innocently.
George blushed like a girl. 'It's a slack time with us,' he said, and
hastily shut the door.
But Mr Cunningham stopped a moment. 'They are not sold, then?' he
inquired.
'No,' said George; 'but let me show you something more interesting.'
'Then it's rather fortunate I called, for I fancy I know a buyer. It's a
large line of steamers I have a share in that are starting, and want a
big consignment of blankets to be numbered and delivered by a near date,'
said Mr Cunningham; and he began to go into figures with George.
The two went off with the manager to do some telephoning, and Lady Grace
Cunningham walked on with the two girls to the dyeing-rooms. Sarah felt
more than ever that she could not say anything, though she showed the new
shade and the cloth.
'Oh mother, do have a coat and skirt of it!' cried Horatia. 'It does suit
you so well! Just see!'
'But I don't suppose I am allowed to buy it wholesale like this?' Lady
Grace protested.
'I believe one firm in London has stocked some. George will know the
name,' said Sarah; but her eyes were shining with such pleasure that Lady
Grace saw that the suggestion had given great pleasure.
'If you will let me have the name I will certainly order a costume. I
have never seen the shade, and I think it ought to become very popular;
it is such a good winter colour,' she said.
'Thank you very much,' said Sarah quietly; but her face said a great deal
more.
When Mr Cunningham joined them, Horatia insisted on his looking at the
new cloth. He admired it as much as his wife, and said, 'I wish you'd
have a dress of that shade. I'm so sick of dull colours, and this is
really becoming.'
Horatia clapped her hands. 'She's going to when Mr Clay tells us the name
of the place where you can buy it.'
'I can do that; but you would give me great pleasure if you would let me
send you a length,' said George.
And Lady Grace gracefully accepted the offer, knowing that it gave the
young man, as he said, great pleasure; and adding, 'But let me know where
it can be got in London, for I am sure to be asked.'
When they took their leave, George and Sarah looked at each other,
smiling. 'The miracle has happened, George!' the latter exclaimed.
'Thank goodness!' he said. 'Oh Sarah, if you only knew how that warehouse
full of blankets has weighed upon me!'
'Then I wonder you're alive to tell the tale,' said a cheery voice behind
him.
They both laughed. 'Oh Uncle Howroyd, isn't it lovely? Mr Cunningham has
given George such a big order, and Lady Grace is going to wear the new
shade. They've been to call.'
'I know. They called on me first,' said their uncle.
'Did you ask them to help us?' cried Sarah, her face falling.
'Nay, lass; I'm as proud as you, and I never said a word except that
young George was battling bravely. Mr Cunningham told me he had come on
purpose to see if he could get blankets, and, as a matter of fact, he
asked me; but I hadn't any ready. So, you see, it was Providence helping
those who help themselves,' he replied.
Meanwhile the Cunninghams were speeding south with the dress-length
packed in the carrier at the back of the motor.
'I don't recognise the description I heard of that family,' observed Lady
Grace Cunningham; 'and it just shows that one must never believe what one
hears, for according to you and Nanny they were very different.'
'Yes; I noticed that. And young Clay, too, is not in the least like
Maxwell's description of him. He said the young man was an easy-going
fellow, who looked always half-asleep, as if life was a bore to live, and
was only fit to lounge in fashionable drawing-rooms. I shall ask him what
he means,' said her husband.
'But that's how Sarah talked of him. I expect he's changed, and so is
she; in fact, they are all changed,' declared Horatia.
'But you told me Mrs Clay was a meek, trodden-down creature, and Mr Clay
a rather violent man, and that Sarah could not bear him. And as for
Nanny's description, it was worse still, and I find Mrs Clay very
different, and Sarah is devoted to her parents, especially her father.'
'I know,' agreed Horatia, nodding her head. 'I was so astonished that my
eyes nearly dropped out of my head. But it's the fire that has done it.
It's burst up all their bad qualities. I can tell you it was pretty
uncomfortable last time I stayed there; and when you tell Nanny your
opinion of them, she'll say a miracle must have happened.'
'I think they have been having a hard struggle. The young fellow betrayed
it when he showed that full warehouse. I heard something about it. There
is a feeling against them. Even our shipping people objected to trading
with them. But I'm glad I persuaded them; it may give them a lift, and
one thing leads to another.'
'Yes; and you must make that shade the fashion, mother. Wear it at your
big reception, will you?' begged Horatia.
'And get it copied at once?' laughed her mother.
'Yes, because Mr Clay was so kind to me. Think of that rink that he had
made just to please me!' cried Horatia.
'Ah, that was a waste of money! They won't be able to throw their money
about like that for some time to come,' said Mr Cunningham, shaking his
head.
'No; and a good thing, too. I don't approve of these colossal fortunes,'
said his wife.
'Unless one has it one's self,' laughed her husband.
'It just shows how quickly they can be lost,' she observed.
'Well, it seems to have done them all good, so I don't think we need
regret it or pity them,' said Mr Cunningham.
'Only, I do wish you had seen Balmoral; it was like Aladdin's palace. I
never saw anything like it,' cried Horatia.