e hamper
strapped on at the back of the car.

'It's a pity you don't appreciate good liquor, Bill, for there's
first-class champagne there,' said Mark Clay as they spun along.

'I don't know that it is, for I couldn't afford it very often,' remarked
his brother cheerfully.

'Pshaw! I've no patience with such rubbish! You could afford it fast
enough if you didn't waste all your money in pensioning off half your old
incapables and keeping the others at work, and going on as if you ran a
mill for the benefit of the hands,' said the millionaire.

'So I do, I hope,' replied his brother, with the same good-humoured
twinkle in his eye.

'Then I suppose you'll be giving them all the profits next, and we shall
see you working as a hand yourself?' said Mark Clay, in a tone that
implied his expectation of such a thing, as, indeed, was the case.

Mr William Howroyd laughed quietly. 'I shall keep the head of Howroyd's
Mill as long as I live, as my father was before me, and his father before
him, and I shall look after the old folks as they did, and, as I hope,
those that'll come after me will do.'

There was silence for a moment, for Mr Howroyd was not married, and they
wondered who would come after him. Mark Clay thought the mill should be
made into a company with his; but William Howroyd had very decidedly
declined to entertain that idea.

So it happened that it was with these words in their ears that they came
into sight of the beautiful ruins of Fountains Abbey, built by those who
acted upon the same principles.

Horatia had sat between Mr and Mrs Clay all the way; but the minute they
arrived she caught Sarah by the arm and said, 'Come and explore the
ruins, and let us find a place and take a sketch of it.'

'We must stop with the others,' said Sarah.

'Oh no, we needn't; you are only saying that because you are cross with
me, and it's no good, because I can't help the things that you don't like
in me. And besides, I want to talk to you.'

'How do you know what things I don't like?' inquired Sarah.

Horatia danced a queer little dance of her own, and then, coming back to
Sarah, said, 'Of course I can feel when you don't like things, but I
can't help that. Come and have a walk with me; I want to ask you about
something.'

There was no resisting Horatia's good spirits, and it was too glorious a
day to quarrel or be disagreeable; so, after seeing that Mr William
Howroyd had gone off with her father and mother, Sara