“He hasn’t given up as much as you might think,” answered Daniel.  “He’s always taking holidays now for cricket matches, and he rides often with Waldron.  It was a mistake his going there.  Waldron is a person with one idea, and a foolish idea at that.  He only thinks a man is a man when he’s tearing about after foxes, or killing something, or playing with a ball of some sort.  He’s a bad influence for Raymond.  But it’s not that.  It’s not so much what Raymond doesn’t do as what he does do.  He’s foolish with the spinners and minders at the Mill.”

“He might be,” said Jenny Ironsyde, “but he’s a gentleman.”

“He’s an idiot.  I believe he’d wreck the whole business if he had the power.  Best tells me he talks to the girls about what he’s going to do presently, and tells them he will raise all their wages.  He suggests to perfectly satisfied people that they are not getting enough money!  Well, it’s only human nature for them to agree with him, and you can easily see what the result of that would be.  Instead of having the hands willing and contented, they’ll grow unsettled and grumble, and then work will suffer and a bad spirit appear in the Mill.  It is simply insane.”

“I quite agree,” answered his aunt.  “There’s no excuse whatever for nonsense of that sort, and if Raymond minded his own business, as he should, it couldn’t happen.  Surely his own work doesn’t throw him into the company of the girls?”

“Of course it doesn’t.  It’s simply a silly excuse to waste his time and hear his own voice.  He ought to have learned all about the mechanical part weeks ago.”

“Well, I can only advise patience,” said Miss Ironsyde.  “I don’t suppose a woman would carry much weight with him, an old one I mean—­myself in fact.  But failing others I will do what I can.  You say Mr. Waldron’s no good.  Then try Uncle Ernest.  I think he might touch Raymond.  He’s gentle, but he’s wise.  And failing that, you must tackle him yourself, Daniel.  It’s your duty.  I know you hate preaching and all that sort of thing, but there’s nobody else.”

“I suppose there isn’t.  It can’t go on anyway, because he’ll do harm.  I believe asses like Raymond make more trouble than right down wicked people, Aunt Jenny.”

“Don’t tell him he’s an ass.  Be patient—­you’re wonderfully patient always for such a young man, so be patient with your brother.  But try Uncle Ernest first.  He might ask Raymond to lunch, or tea, and give him a serious talking to.  He’ll know what to say.”

“He’s too mild and easy.  It will go in at one ear and come out of the other,” prophesied Daniel.

But none the less he called on Mr. Churchouse when next at Bridetown.

The old man had just received a parcel by post and was elated.

“A most interesting work sent to me from ‘A Well Wisher,’” he said.  “It is an old perambulation of Dorsetshire, which I have long desired to possess.”