ged will not be
admitted.'

Such, in brief, was the young man's speech. The hands noticed that he had
not called them 'friends,' nor, indeed, had his tone been friendly, but
only business-like and curt, in marked contradiction to the way he had
spoken of 'my good friends here,' alluding to those who had remained at
their posts. But they were just men, and they respected the young man all
the more for bravely and boldly 'standing up to them,' and showing his
loyalty to his father and those who had stood by his father.

Some few slunk away. They were those Mr Clay had discharged--an act which
had brought about the strike. But this time their discharge was accepted.
Without exception the hands took up their old places; the engine, which
had stopped, went on again; the fires, which had not yet gone out, were
replenished; and before William Howroyd could get down to see what new
misfortune this was, Clay's Mills had ceased to 'play.'

'Nay, my lass, you can't be serious. Men are not a flock of sheep to come
back to you just because the bell rings,' he protested when Sarah told
him the tale.

'Just go into the rooms and see for yourself,' she said. 'They are all
setting to work with a will.'

'But I meant to have a talk with George and try to arrange things,'
objected Mr Howroyd. 'One can't restart a business like this in this
hap-hazard manner.'

'It's not hap-hazard; it's just natural. They're sorry for us and for
everything, and they've just come back as if nothing had happened. I
really think George is a born business man; he's quite left off being
half-asleep all the time,' cried Sarah.

'It's my belief he's been more wide awake than we knew "all the time,"'
quoted her uncle.

'Anyway, he's quite wide awake now. And, oh! it's so funny to hear him
when they come and ask him some questions he doesn't know anything about.
He puts up his pince-nez, looks very wise, and says, "You had better go
on as you have always done for the present."'

Mr Howroyd pinched her cheek. 'You are far too wide awake, especially
when it comes to criticising other people. Well, I expect I can go back
to my own mill. I'm not wanted here. I shall soon be coming to your
George for advice. Dear, dear! who would have thought it? He looked as if
it was too much trouble to live. This bad business has done you both
good--you as well as him, and you badly wanted some improvement, my lass.
It'll be a proud day for your father when he hears what