'I think you exaggerate the danger. They may try to fire the house—in fact, I rather expect they will, only I fancy the police are guarding us too well for them to succeed; but as for touching us or attempting our lives, I don't for a moment believe they would do any such thing—not Ousebank men,' said George, composed as ever.
'Oh, but it isn't only Ousebank men; there are some agitators come down,' cried his mother.
'They'll not put their heads in a noose, catch them, however much they may incite other fellows to. Don't you worry, mother; trust to me. I'll take you safe to Uncle Howroyd's,' said George.
Mrs Clay meekly did as she was bid. At bottom she was rather pleased to be going near her husband and insubordinate daughter, and by the time she got into the motor her fears were calmed.
Sarah was looking out of the mill-house window when she saw the car drive up to the big gates of the little front-garden. 'Mother, oh, I am glad to see you!' she cried, as she kissed her mother affectionately.
Mrs Clay's pale cheeks grew pink with pleasure at the affectionate greeting, and she clasped her tall daughter in her arms. 'My dearie, I am glad to have you again!' she exclaimed.
'You ought to scold her well, Polly, instead of petting her; but it is always the way with the prodigal—he has the fatted calf,' said Mr Howroyd.
'George says he's going to see his father,' said Mrs Clay.
'If the pickets will let him,' observed his uncle.
'Exactly so,' said George.