'There'll never be another Balmoral. It would take me too long, and I doubt if Clay's Mills will ever be themselves again. I'd like those fellows to be sent off the minute the contract's done. It'll take them another week; but I'll be glad to see the backs of them. I wish they'd never come,' said Mr Clay, who seemed to have a feverish desire to talk.
'They've gone, father,' said Sarah.
But this was too much for Mrs Clay's patience. 'That'll do, Sarah. Your father's not got to talk business w'ile 'e's so bad.—There, Mark, don't you worry; everything's going on as well as can be expected,' she said, in what she thought was a soothing tone.
Her husband waved her aside. 'Let be, Polly! Let the lass speak; I must know the worst.—So they've gone, the villains! When they thought I was done for, the rats forsook the sinking ship. Ay, 'twas a bad day for us, was yon. Well, that ends it! The credit of Clay's Mills has gone for ever. I'd best not get better. You'll have a little something to live on; and that's all I've done with my toiling and moiling. I'm best dead,' he said.
Mrs Clay grasped Sarah's arm in a convulsive grip. 'Don't breathe another word. I forbid you!'
Sarah felt sure she should do more good by speaking; but she remained obediently silent.
'It's strange—a sick man's fancy, I suppose—but I thought I heard our bell. There's no mistaking it. And, hark! there it is again. Am I light-headed, Polly, or what's that bell I heard?' he asked.
'No, Mark, no, you're not light-headed; it is your own bell. All's goin' as well as can be expected,' replied poor Mrs Clay.
'What does she mean? Speak up, my lass; why are they ringing my bell? Speak, I tell you!' he commanded.
So Sarah spoke, and told him what her brother had done.