Horatia not only joined merrily in Sarah's laugh, but listened quite intelligently to Mr William Howroyd's explanation of the material used to make blankets.
'It's most fearfully interesting,' she said with a sigh.
Mr Howroyd laughed. 'You'd best have gone to the lakes, as Sarah proposed. This is a very dull holiday task you've set yourself, Miss Horatia.'
'I never enjoyed any holiday so much in my life,' she protested stoutly, and a look at her beaming, interested face confirmed her words.
CHAPTER IX.
A YORKSHIRE MIXTURE.
'Do you particularly want to walk home, Horatia?' inquired Sarah as they were leaving Howroyd's Mill.
'No; I particularly don't want, considering that I have been driving Shank's mare up awful break-neck steps and down precipices,' replied Horatia, who had climbed up and down funny stairs and ladders in the mill, which she called precipices.
'You are not going home, anyway, just now, for the mills are just coming out, and the streets will be crowded, and it's luncheon-time; so you're going to have a plain lunch with me, if you will honour me so far,' said Mr Howroyd, and looked for a delighted acceptance from Sarah. But, to his surprise, Sarah coloured and looked at Horatia doubtfully. 'I think they'll be expecting us at home,' she said.