ted calf,' said Mr
Howroyd.

'George says he's going to see his father,' said Mrs Clay.

'If the pickets will let him,' observed his uncle.

'Exactly so,' said George.

'You can't possibly,' cried Sarah; 'they won't even let Uncle Howroyd
through, so they certainly won't let you.'

'There's no harm in trying, anyway. I half-thought they might be
unpleasant when we passed through the town; but they only scowled a bit,'
observed George, as, having made his mother comfortable in an easy-chair,
he kissed her and took up his hat to go.

'You are really going, dear?' said his mother.

Sarah expected her to protest with tears; but she did nothing of the
kind. 'I believe,' mused Sarah, 'that she cares more for father's safety
than she does for George's!' And this idea was so surprising to her that
she, too, let her brother go without a protest. Not that arguments would
have been any good, as his sister knew.

'That boy has more grit in him than I suspected,' said George's uncle, as
he watched his nephew walk with his deliberate gait out at the gate
towards the notorious mills.

'I'd have given something to go with him to see what will happen when
they turn him back. George is awfully obstinate, uncle; I dare say he'll
stand there and argue with them till they let him through because they're
sick of him and his polite requests to be allowed to go into his own
father's mills,' observed Sarah.

Mr Howroyd laughed, though it was not his usual cheery laugh. 'He'll be a
cleverer fellow than I take him for if he gets past that picket, will
George.'

However, half-an-hour later the telephone rang. 'It's from Clay's Mills,'
Mr Howroyd informed them, 'and they're calling for you, Polly.'

'Oh dear, 'ave they 'urt 'im?' Mrs Clay cried, and flew to the telephone.
'It's George,' she announced in accents of surprise; 'an' 'e says father
is quite well, an' very glad to see 'im, an' 'e shall stay a bit.'

'How did he get in? Ask him that, mother,' demanded Sarah, who was
naturally curious on the point.

''E says 'e walked in,' repeated her mother.

Sarah went to the receiver herself. 'Nonsense; he couldn't.--How did you
get past the pickets, George?'

'Walked past, I tell you. They argued a little, but I told them I was on
their business as well as my own, and they let me walk in. They're
awfully good fellows, really, and you all exaggerate their ferocity.'

Suddenly Naomi came running into the room. Howroyd's house was no