I've promised to go and stay with them again soon,' observed Horatia.

'That's if her ladyship allows it,' replied Nancy, in a tone that implied
that the mistress wouldn't allow it.

Horatia only laughed. 'It will be nice to see them all again,' she said.
And this time she meant her own family.

CHAPTER XXI.

CLAY'S MILLS PLAYING.

Sarah was sitting in her own room, rather cross with herself for feeling
lonely, and trying not to acknowledge, even to herself, that she missed
Horatia, or to own that her schoolfellow made things go more smoothly,
somehow. It was a stormy-looking morning, and Sarah was wondering what
she should do with herself, when she felt a gentle hand placed on her
shoulder, and, turning in surprise, saw her brother standing behind her,
with his usual pleasant smile on his face.

'Good-morning!' he said, as he kissed her.

'Goodness me, George! Where on earth did you spring from?' she cried in
surprise. 'I thought you were in Scotland.'

'So I was till yesterday; in fact, I've only just arrived,' he remarked.

'You've been travelling all night, and you look as fresh and clean as if
you'd just dressed for breakfast! But that's just like you. I believe
you'd be miserable if you had your hair untidy or your face dirty,' she
observed.

'It certainly isn't a pleasant idea. Besides, there is no need for it in
this case, seeing that they provide plenty of hot water in the through
sleeping-car,' remarked George, seating himself on the window-seat
opposite his sister.

'All the same, I should think it would be pleasanter to travel by day.
And what brought you back a week before your time?' Sarah demanded.

'I thought I should like to have a last look at the old home,' he replied
dryly. 'I have more affection for it than you have, you see.'

'How did you hear about it?' inquired Sarah.

'I saw something in the papers, and wired to Uncle Howroyd, and he said I
had better come back. I meant to come in any case, though, as soon as I
saw the papers,' explained George.

'What did the papers say? I haven't seen one, and no one will tell me
anything. Uncle Howroyd is worst of all, because, he says, he's a
magistrate; but I suppose it's just because I am only a girl, since he
will talk to you,' said Sarah.

'He only told me the real facts of the case, and said he thought my place
was at home, if only to comfort my mother.' Here George paused a moment,
and then continued, 'She seems to miss that