content goin' on, an' your father is that determined,' sighed little
Mrs Clay.

'Do you think he really is my father?' demanded Sarah.

'W'atever do you mean by talkin' such nonsense?' inquired Mrs Clay,
indignation taking the place of anger for the time.

'Only that one would think he was Horatia's father, to see the way she
goes on, as if she were a daughter of the house,' replied Sarah, her lip
curling.

'Sarah, I'm ashamed o' you showin' such wicked jealousy to that dear
girl. If you got on wi' your father there'd be no occasion for 'er to do
as she does; but if she 'adn't interfered to-night w'at would 'ave
'appened? A strike very likely, an' we're not safe from it yet. There's a
lot o' discontent,' repeated her mother.

'I hate interfering people!' was all Sarah said.

Then there was silence, while both mother and daughter strained their
ears to listen for any sound of voices from without, dreading to hear
Mark Clay's loud, rough voice raised in angry tones. But no sound was to
be heard, and Mrs Clay said after a time, 'I'm glad 'e's listenin' to
'em; it'll do 'em good if they can say their say, even if 'e don't give
way to 'em.'

Horatia meanwhile had tripped away with a light, dancing step, for which
she was very often taken to task, not only at school, where she was told
to walk properly and be more serious, but also by her mother, who said it
was undignified for a girl of fifteen.

Mark Clay walked heavily beside his young companion, scarcely listening
to her chatter--for it must be confessed that Horatia was rather a
chatterbox, or, as her father said, 'had a good deal to say for
herself'--but some words she said caught his ear. 'I dare say they are
envious of your riches. I never cared to be rich before; in fact, I never
thought about money, because we always seem to have everything we want at
home; but since I have been at Balmoral I have envied you your riches,
and thought it was rather unfair that you should have such a lot.'

'Oh, you think I've more than my share, do you, like all the rest of
them? Well, I s'pose it's natural; but I'm not going to share it up for
all that, as they'll pretty soon find out,' replied the millionaire.

Horatia had the sense not to say any more, and, indeed, there was no
time, for they were at the door of the steward's room, where business was
transacted in connection with the employes on the estate, and in this
room were six men standing, cap in hand, near the ou