Sarahs School Friend | Page 6

wi' your 'aughty airs an' scornful
ways that no one would put up wi', let alone that you could never earn a
penny if you tried.'
'I'm not so sure about that. I've a good mind to try, to show you that
you're wrong,' said Sarah meditatively.
Her mother cast a frightened glance at her, and said soothingly, 'There,
my dearie, there's no need to think about it; you're far too pretty even to
do such a thing. You were born for a mansion, an' I 'ope you'll always
'ave one to live in.'
'I don't. I hope I shall one day have to work for my living, and I shall do
it whether it is necessary or not, you'll see,' she declared.
Fortunately both the dinner-gong and an elaborate set of chimes rang
out through the house, and Mrs Clay, with a nervous start, said
hurriedly, 'There's the chimes! Well, we must be goin'. Don't you look
grand to-night, Sairey?'

'That's just what I feel, mother--a great deal too grand for a quiet family
dinner; and so are you,' she added, as she looked critically at her
mother in the elaborately trimmed, plum-coloured silk dress, so rich
that it seemed to prop up the delicate little woman and almost stifle her
with its heavy gold trimmings and fringes.
'It's to please your father and George, and nothing's too grand to do
that,' said Mrs Clay, as she went out of the room, making a rustle as she
passed along the richly carpeted passages and down the grand marble
staircase into the drawing-room. Mr Clay did not trouble himself to go
into the drawing-room to fetch his wife, but always walked straight to
the dining-room at the first note of the chimes.
George was waiting, as he did every evening, to give his arm to escort
his mother to the dining-room, and took her to the dinner-table, where
his wife and children found Mark Clay sitting at the top of the large
table which groaned under its massive gold ornaments and plate. He
was a big, bull-faced man; at first sight so different from his son and
daughter that the latter might almost be forgiven her extraordinary
suggestion to her mother that perhaps he was not her father at all! It
would require a closer observer than Sarah to see a certain set of the
chin which was common to him and his two children, though hers took
the form of haughtiness, and her brother's had such a pleasant, if
indolent, expression that his father had never discovered this hidden
characteristic.
'Well, lass, thee'rt grand to-night. How much did tha gown cost? A
pretty penny, I'll be bound. Well, lasses will be lasses, and the mills can
give as many on 'em as ye like. An' your mother, too, though she's a bit
old for such vanity; it's the young uns as want fine feathers. Now then,
what are ye scowling at?' cried her father, all in the broadest Yorkshire.
'It's the fashion to scowl at personal remarks, my dear father,' remarked
George, as he 'played,' in his mother's words, with his food.
'Then it's one fashion thee'll ha' to onlearn, dost hear? I'll ha' no lass o'
mine scowling at me at my own table,' replied her father, as he brought
his fist down on the table with a thump, which made his poor wife

jump as well as the crystal and glass, 'which it's a wonder he don't have
of gold too,' his well-bred butler observed, with a touch of contempt for
his master, which he allowed himself to vent to the equally well-bred
housekeeper, and to her only.
George stepped into the breach again. 'How's the market, dad?' he
inquired. 'Wool's going up, I hear.'
'Wool's going up, you hear? An' what might you know about wool?
Nought as I know of. I wish you did; but there, thee'rt too fine for t'
wool-trade, and thou'll never need to know about it, only to spend
money,' said the millionaire, purposely, as his son believed, talking in
such broad Yorkshire as is not often heard nowadays, and so broad as
to be unintelligible to the reader of this tale, for which reason it must be
taken for granted, as perhaps his wife's cockney dialect had better be.
However, the inquiry had turned the mill-owner's attention from his
daughter and her unbending attitude, and had apparently produced a
good effect, for Mr Clay, senior, seemed to be in a better temper for the
rest of the dinner, the long, wearisome dinner which he was the only
one who seemed to appreciate.
There was no conversation but the remarks made in a gentle tone by
George to his mother, to whom he was as attentive as he would have
been to the