'Hasn't the new dye taken at all?' inquired Sarah.
'Yes, to a certain extent, and it is the only thing we are selling; but it wants some fashionable person to take it up, and I really couldn't push it or ask any of my friends,' he observed.
'I might ask Horatia to get her mother to have a costume that colour,' said Sarah doubtfully; 'but she hasn't written lately. She said they were coming up north in their motor, and should call and see us all. But I expect they've read those things that have been written, and don't want to have anything to do with us now we're ruined, or going to be.'
'In that case you can't possibly write to her. But I wish I knew what to do. I have even been to see some of the buyers, only to be refused,' said George a little bitterly.
'Oh, have you really? That was plucky of you, because I know you hate it so. I do wish something would happen. I hate going into father's room and having to tell him that things are rather slack. You know the doctor says he will soon be able to go down to the mills himself, and then he'll know the truth,' said Sarah, who, it will be observed, had quite changed in her feelings towards her father.
'Well, they say when things come to the worst they will mend, and things have come to about the worst with us, so let's hope they will mend,' said George, rousing himself and trying to speak cheerfully.
'That proverb is rubbish,' said Sarah, with some of her old violence; 'things often come to the worst and just end there.'
'We've done our best, anyway, so we shall have that consolation,' remarked George.
'How much longer can you hold out?' inquired the practical Sarah.
'Practically I'm at the end of my tether, and was thinking of warning the hands that the mills may have to shut down at the end of next week.'