ther, troubles me."

"To be sure, I know that, John. Well, then, it is your brother Harry."

A look of anxiety came into John's face and he asked in an anxious
voice, "What is the matter with Harry? Is he well?"

"Quite well."

"Then what has he been doing?"

"Nay, it's something he wants to do."

"He wants to get married, I suppose?"

"Nay, I haven't heard of any foolishness of that make. I'll tell you
what he wants to do--he wants to rent his share in the mill to Naylor's
sons."

Then John leaped to his feet and said angrily, "Never! Never! It cannot
be true, mother! I cannot believe it! Who told you?"

"Your overseer, Jonathan Greenwood, and Harry asked Greenwood to stand
by him in the matter, but Jonathan wouldn't have anything to do with
such business, and he advised me to send for you. He says the lad is
needing looking after--in more ways than one."

"Where is Harry?"

"He went to Manchester last Saturday."

"What for, mother?"

"I don't know for certain. He said on business. You had better talk with
Jonathan. I didn't like the way he spoke of Harry. He ought to remember
his young master is a bit above him."

"That is the last thing Jonathan would remember, but he is a
good-hearted, straight-standing man."

"Very, if you can believe in his words and ways. He came here Saturday
to insinuate all kinds of 'shouldn't-be's' against Harry, and then on
Sunday he was dropping his 'Amens' about the chapel so generously I
felt perfectly sure they were worth nothing."

"Well, mother, you may trust me to look after all that is wrong. Let not
your heart be troubled. I will talk with Jonathan in the morning."

"Nay, I'll warrant he will be here tonight. He will have heard thou art
home, and he will be sure he is wanted before anybody else."

"If he comes tonight, tell him I cannot see him until half-past nine in
the morning."

"That is right--but what for?"

"Because I am much troubled and a little angry. I wish to get myself in
harness before I see anyone."

"Well, you know, John, that Harry never liked the mill, but while father
lived he did not dare to say so. Poor lad! He hated mill life."

"He ought at least to remember what his grandfather and father thought
of Hatton Mill. Why, mother, on his twenty-first birthday, father
solemnly told him the story of the mill and how it was the seal and
witness between our God and our family--yet he would bring strangers
into our work! I'll have no partner