ked off to see his
uncle, who had nothing consoling to say to him, except that he would
stand by them whatever happened.

'And what do you suppose he expects to happen?' George asked his sister,
rather irritably, when he returned.

'Goodness knows! All I know is that I shall be glad when this week is
over,' she replied.

But Sarah was wrong, for when the time came there was no gladness at
Balmoral.

'You were right, Sarah,' said George, coming in and throwing himself down
on a cane arm-chair in the garden, near where his sister was sitting
reading.

'I generally am,' said Sarah lightly. She and her brother were great
friends in spite of their abuse of each other.

'It's no joke,' he replied seriously; and Sarah, looking to see what was
the matter, was struck by her brother's grave looks. He was coming out
in quite a new aspect.

'What's no joke? Oh, do you mean that I was right about father's
revenge?' she inquired.

'I don't know about its being a revenge; but he's turned out that crowd
that looked on at the fire, and the hands have revenged themselves by
striking, and Clay's Mills are "playing."'

It should be explained that 'playing' in the north country means not
working, and a very serious thing it is, especially in a large mill.

Sarah dropped her book, and sat there, open-mouthed, looking at her
brother. 'Clay's Mills "playing"! Our hands have gone out on strike?' she
gasped.

Her brother nodded silently. 'Of course they'll have to give in; the
governor can hold out longer than they can; but it means a terrible
loss,' he said at length.

They were sitting there staring blankly at each other when they heard
their father's voice. Both started as if they had been caught doing
something wrong, and instinctively looked round to see if there was any
possibility of escaping without being seen; but they saw that this was
impossible, for Mr. Clay was making for them.

'Oh George! he'll be in a towering rage. You talk to him. I'm sure to say
something to irritate him,' said Sarah in a hurried undertone.

'He doesn't look much upset,' observed George; and just at that minute
the millionaire came within hearing, and called out a cheery
'Good-morning' to them.

'Well, my lad, I've got rid of a lot of bad material to-day,' he remarked
jocosely.

'You mean the hands, father?' said George, as he rose and politely placed
a chair for his father.

'Yes, I mean the hands,' said Mr Clay, mimicking, with little