randdaughter, whether her face is homely or not. No, I
couldn't ask her,' declared Sarah.

'Why not? She'd be the very one. Your father likes people o' 'igh class,
though 'e was only a mill-'and 'isself. An' she's got such a nice smile
on 'er photo,' persisted the mother.

'I couldn't possibly ask her; she'd never come and stay with a
manufacturer,' declared Sarah again.

'I'd be bound she'd jump at it. She'd not get a better dinner at 'ome or
anyw'ere, nor a better room to sleep in,' said Mrs Clay.

This remark grated upon both her children, as so many of poor Mrs Clay's
sayings did; but George, tactful as usual, remarked, 'Suppose you write
and ask Miss Cunningham, Sarah; and if she is too proud to visit a maker
of blankets, why, she will refuse, and there will be the end of it; and
if she accepts, it will show that her friendship for you is stronger than
class prejudices.'

Sarah looked at her brother for a minute as if she wanted to say
something, but did not do so, and only drummed with her crimson-dyed
fingers on the white table-cloth, taking apparently great delight in
their appearance.

'Yes; you do as your brother tells you, instead of sittin' there smilin'
at them dreadful 'ands o' yours. I'm sure they're nothin' to be proud o'.
Now, if you lived in Howroyd's Mill, w'ere your uncle Bill lives, you
might be ashamed to ask the young lady to stay wi' you; but 'ere it's
quite different,' said Mrs Clay.

The brother and sister, it will have been noticed, always called their
father's step-brother Uncle Howroyd, whereas their mother and father
called him Bill or 'your uncle Bill.' The fact was that the younger
people did not like 'Bill,' and George said he was thankful for one
thing, and that was that his name could not be shortened; while Sarah had
made violent protests against being called Sally or Sal, and would not
allow any one except her father, whom she could not control, to call her
anything but Sarah; and, indeed, the latter name suited her best.

Sarah followed her brother into his smoking-den. 'Pshaw! What a stuffy
room!' she exclaimed, as she threw herself upon the cushioned
window-seat.

'If it does not please you I fail to see why you have come into it; and
as for being stuffy'----Instead of completing his sentence George
shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say the accusation was too absurd
to be argued about.

'It _is_ stuffy, with all those cushions and carpets about, and pictures
and g