ia; 'there's a reason for that.'

'Very well; there's a feeling in the air as if the home of Clay were
going to fall,' retorted Sarah.

'Then there must be some reason for it; and if you know it I think you
ought to try and prevent it for your mother's sake, even if you would
like it to fall,' said Horatia.

'You think girls can do anything, but you are wrong; they can't, and I
don't know any reason why it should fall, and I dare say it's all
imagination. Why does it interest you so much?' asked Sarah.

'Sarah, tell me, why won't Naomi's sister come near Balmoral?' asked
Horatia abruptly.

'Because she hates my father. Every one isn't so fond of him as you are,'
said Sarah.

'Why does she hate him? Doesn't she work in his mills?' Horatia inquired.

'Yes, that's one of the reasons. Besides, her young man was a hand, and
was turned off. Father is not popular with his hands,' said Sarah
sarcastically.

'Are you?' demanded Horatia, turning upon her.

Sarah did not answer for a minute, for the question took her aback; then
she laughed. 'No, I don't fancy I am. They think me proud, and I suppose
I am, though goodness knows what I have to be proud of,' she said.

'You might be proud of being so pretty, but I know you are not,' said
Horatia. 'I don't see why that girl should hate your father.'

'And I don't see why you should like him,' returned Sarah.

'I know you don't, and I am sorry for it and for lots of things; but it's
no good worrying about them when we are out on a picnic, especially as I
am starving of hunger, as you say here, and I see Tom Fox waving the flag
to show that lunch is ready.'

The millionaire was in the best of humours, paying his wife attention,
telling Tom Fox playfully to be sure and have a good lunch, and see that
his horse had one too! and joking with Mr Howroyd and Horatia, and with
Sarah when she gave him a chance.

'Have you got right yet?' inquired her uncle after lunch, as they were
preparing to go back.

'Not right enough to change places with any one; but they were better
to-day, I must say.'

'Oh, were they? How very condescending you are! Upon my word, Sarah, you
want taking down a peg badly,' said her uncle, who, however, took his old
place beside his niece.

CHAPTER XVII.

A DISASTROUS BONFIRE.

The return journey, as return journeys after a day's pleasuring often
are, was a much quieter affair than the drive on the way out. Even
Horatia was rather silent