“The most inconsiderate, selfish person on earth is Raymond,” she said as a servant brought her two letters, neither from the sinner.  “I asked him—­and prayed him—­to see me to-day about a subject of the gravest importance to him and to us all; and he neither comes nor takes the least notice of my letter.  He is hopeless.”

“What’s he done now?”

“I don’t know exactly—­at least—­never mind.  Leave it for the minute.  Sorry, I was cross.  You’ll know what there is to know soon enough.  If there’s trouble in store, we must put a bold face on it and think of him.”

“I rather hoped things were going smoother.  He seems to be getting more steady and industrious.”

“Perhaps he reserved his industry for the works and leaves none for anything else, then,” she answered; “but don’t worry before you need.”

“You’ll tell me if there’s anything I ought to know, Aunt Jenny.”

“He’ll tell you himself, I should hope.  And if he doesn’t, no doubt there will be plenty of other people to do so.  But don’t meet trouble half way.  Shall you be back to tea?”

“Probably not.  I’m going to Bridetown this afternoon.  I have an appointment with Best.  He was to see some machinery that sounded all right; but he’s very conservative and I can always trust him to be on the safe side.  One doesn’t mean to be left behind, of course.”

“Always ask yourself what your father would have thought, Daniel.  And then you’ll not make any mistakes.”

He nodded.

“I ask myself that often enough, you may be sure.”

* * * * *

An hour later the young man had driven his trap to the Mill and listened to John Best on the subject of immediate interest.  The foreman decided against any innovation for the present and Daniel was glad.  Then he asked for his brother.

“Is Mister Raymond here?”

“He was this morning; but he’s not down this afternoon.  At least he wasn’t when I went to his office just before you came.”

“Everything’s all right, I suppose?”

Mr. Best looked uncomfortable.

“I’m afraid not, sir; but I hate talking.  You’d better hear it from him.”

Daniel’s heart sank.

“Tell me,” he said.  “You’re one of us, John—­my father’s right hand for twenty years—­and our good is your good.  If you know of trouble, tell me the truth.  It may be better for him in the long run.  Miss Ironsyde was bothered about him, to-day.”

“If it’s better for him, then I’ll speak,” answered Best.  “He’s a very clever young man and learning fast now.  He’s buckling to and getting on with it.  But—­Sabina Dinnett, our first spinner, gave notice on Saturday.  She’s not here to-day.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’d better ask them that know.  I’ve heard a lot of rumours, and they may be true or not, and I hope they’re not.  But if they are, I suppose it means the old story where men get mixed up with girls.”