'I don't know that there's anything wrong with them. I think it's me that there's something wrong with,' replied Sarah.
'But I don't understand. Didn't you tell me Miss Horatia was to be of the party? What's gone crooked between you two?' he inquired.
'I don't know; at least, it sounds silly, but I can't bear her being such friends with father. She seems to think everything he does and says all right, and it isn't; it's all wrong, and I think it's horrid of her!' said Sarah.
'Steady there, my lass. I don't think it's the place of children to criticise their elders at all, and certainly not their fathers; and as for this you tell me about Miss Horatia, why, what would you have her do—abuse her host, and talk against him to his daughter?'
'You don't understand, Uncle Howroyd. Just you come for this picnic, and then see if I am not right,' begged Sarah.
'I sha'n't think that; but I think I'll come, only I must go home and change first, and give some orders for the men,' said her uncle.
'Then I'll come too. I feel as if I shall say something horrid to somebody if I don't.'
'Then you'd best come along with me, for you'll be poor company for the others in this mood;' and he took her back to Howroyd's Mill with him.
An hour later the five started for Fountains Abbey, with a huge hamper strapped on at the back of the car.
'It's a pity you don't appreciate good liquor, Bill, for there's first-class champagne there,' said Mark Clay as they spun along.