success it
must be owned, his son's soft, drawling tones and refined accents.

'I'm sorry you found them all bad material,' George replied, without
noticing this.

'I didn't say I did; but part of it was bad, and as the good wouldn't
stay without the bad, out they both had to go, and bitterly they'll rue
the day they did it,' declared Mr Clay.

'I hope you won't,' burst out Sarah.

Her father looked as if he were going to get into one of his violent
rages, but refrained, as he had done lately; and again Sarah could not
help noticing the change that had taken place since Horatia's coming,
though Horatia had not been able to prevent him from doing this latest
act. 'I hope not; Clay's Mills sha'n't "play" for them,' he said quietly;
but there was a satisfied look on his face that Sarah could not
understand.

It was Saturday, and all that day and all Sunday the millionaire went
about looking aggressively cheerful. 'He only does it just to annoy us,'
said Sarah.

'It doesn't annoy me. I'm only too glad to see one cheerful face in the
midst of so many gloomy ones, though I should like to know what it
means,' said George.

'So should I, for Naomi says father has a big contract on, and will lose
thousands every day he stands idle,' said Sarah.

George looked very serious. 'What can he be thinking of? He must be
going cracky,' he opined.

'Oh no, he isn't,' said Sarah a few minutes later; 'he's done them,
somehow. Look!'

George looked out of the window. 'The mills are working!' he exclaimed.
'How has he done it?'

CHAPTER XXII.

'FURRINERS' IN OUSEBANK!

The young Clays stood and stared at each other in blank amazement. Then
they looked out again at the cluster of tall chimneys which belonged to
Clay's Mills, and which were belching forth great volumes of smoke as if
in contemptuous defiance of those who had dared to try to stop their
mighty engine.

'It is our mills!' repeated Sarah, as if she had almost disbelieved her
eyes.

'Yes, there's no mistake about it; they are our mills; and yet I could
have vowed I saw some of the hands pass by the park-gate this morning
when I went to speak to the park-keeper. They were going away from
Ousebank in search of work, I supposed.'

'I expect you are mistaken. How could the mills work without the hands?
Unless they climbed down, and I'm sure they won't do that. Besides, you
don't know their faces, do you?' asked Sarah.

'I guessed who they were by the wa