'There are none so ignorant as those that won't know, eh, Naomi?' said
Sarah slyly.

'Perhaps not, miss,' agreed Naomi, as she shut her lips tightly, and was
not to be induced to say any more.

Meanwhile the night at Balmoral had not been much more restful. In the
morning George said to his mother in a decided tone which she had not
heard him ever use, 'I am going into Ousebank, mother. I shall go and see
Uncle Howroyd, and if he approves I shall try and see my father.'

'Oh my dear, my dear, don't you do it! I couldn't stay here alone--I
couldn't really!' she cried, wringing her hands.

'Then come with me. We'll motor down, and at best they can only stop the
car and make us turn back; but I don't think they will. Come, mother,
that's not a bad idea; it will make a change, and bring you nearer to the
governor, and you will see Sarah and give her a scolding for her
disobedience.'

'I don't feel like scolding any one. I shall only be too thankful to have
her safe by me; though who knows whether any of us are safe anywhere?'
said poor little Mrs Clay, whom the events of the past week had
frightened out of her wits.

'I think you exaggerate the danger. They may try to fire the house--in
fact, I rather expect they will, only I fancy the police are guarding us
too well for them to succeed; but as for touching us or attempting our
lives, I don't for a moment believe they would do any such thing--not
Ousebank men,' said George, composed as ever.

'Oh, but it isn't only Ousebank men; there are some agitators come down,'
cried his mother.

'They'll not put their heads in a noose, catch them, however much they
may incite other fellows to. Don't you worry, mother; trust to me. I'll
take you safe to Uncle Howroyd's,' said George.

Mrs Clay meekly did as she was bid. At bottom she was rather pleased to
be going near her husband and insubordinate daughter, and by the time she
got into the motor her fears were calmed.

Sarah was looking out of the mill-house window when she saw the car drive
up to the big gates of the little front-garden. 'Mother, oh, I am glad to
see you!' she cried, as she kissed her mother affectionately.

Mrs Clay's pale cheeks grew pink with pleasure at the affectionate
greeting, and she clasped her tall daughter in her arms. 'My dearie, I am
glad to have you again!' she exclaimed.

'You ought to scold her well, Polly, instead of petting her; but it is
always the way with the prodigal--he has the fat