e, if you use some acid,' replied her brother, looking at her
fingers.

'Oh, but I must get them clean by lunch-time, or father will make a row,'
she cried.

'I should advise you to have lunch in your boudoir, as you call it. You
can't possibly get all this off at first go. I can't imagine what old
Matthew was about to let you get yourself in such a mess. Really, you are
very childish for your age, in some ways.'

'What were you talking to Uncle Howroyd about?' demanded Sarah, who did
not want to talk about her hands any longer.

'The heavy woollen trade,' replied her brother promptly.

'That wasn't what you came down to see Uncle Howroyd about. A lot you
know of the heavy woollen trade or any other trade! Besides, that came
out too pat. What you came down to Ousebank for was just the same thing
that I came for.'

'I should not have said so,' replied George dryly, with a significant
glance at her hands.

'It was, all the same. You came to ask Uncle Howroyd what he meant by
talking about the workhouse last night, and so did I; but I thought one
of us was enough to ask that question, so now just tell me what he said.'

If George was taken aback by her astuteness, he did not say so, but
answered simply, 'He said he did not mean anything, and that there was
no chance of the workhouse for us more than for him.'

'Do you believe that?' asked Sarah.

'He said there was no more chance of our going to the workhouse than his
going there,' repeated George.

'Do you believe that?' repeated Sarah.

'No, I do not,' said George gravely.

'Oh George, do you think we are ruined, or anything?' cried Sarah in
excitement.

'Oh, do be quiet, and don't talk so loud, or the cabby will hear you! Of
course we're not ruined; but it would never astonish me any day if we
came a howler. The pater goes too fast, and---- But we're all right now;
and, for goodness' sake, don't say a word to mother; it would upset her
dreadfully. It's only for her sake I'd mind so much.'

'We'd work for her, and she'd be happier with us, without father always
shouting at her,' said Sarah.

'Probably we'd have to work for him too, and he might not be angelic as a
pauper,' suggested George grimly, perhaps with a view to subdue Sarah's
desire for poverty.

'Oh, I never thought of that. Let's hope his money will last as long as
he lives,' she cried.

CHAPTER V.

A RELUCTANT INVITATION.

'We'd better go in the back way, I think,' observed