“I won’t do that—­not yet.  I’ll tell you what I will do.  I will rent your share of the mill for a year if you will take Captain Cook and the yacht and go to the Mediterranean, and from the yacht visit the old cities and see all the fine picture galleries, and listen to the music of Paris and Milan or even Vienna.  You must stay away a year.  I want you to realize above all things that to live to amuse yourself is the hardest work the devil can set you to do.”

“I promised Fred Naylor I would rent him my share.”

“How dared you make such a promise?  Did you think that I, standing as I do, for my father, Stephen Hatton, would ever lower the Hatton name to Hatton and Naylor?  I am ashamed of you, Harry!  I am that!”

“John, I am so unhappy in the mill.  You don’t understand—­”

“Your duty is in the mill.  If a man does his duty, he cannot be unhappy.  No, he can not.”

“I have been doing my duty five years, and hating every hour of it.  And I promised the Naylor boys—­”

“What?”

“That I would sell or rent my share in this mill to them.”

“It is impossible for you to keep that promise.  You cannot sell a shilling’s worth belonging to the mill property without mine and mother’s permission.  Neither of us will give it.  Your plan won’t work, Harry.  Mother and I will stand by Hatton mill as firm as an anvil beaten upon.  Both of us will do anything we can to make you reasonably happy, but you must never dare to name selling or renting your right to anyone but your brother.  The mill is ours!  No stranger shall own a bobbin in it!  One or both of us will run it until we follow our father, and then—­”

“Then what?”

“Our sons will take our place if so it pleases God.  Harry, dear, dear lad, go and take a long holiday among the things you love, and after it we will come to a kind and sensible conclusion about your future.  While you are away, I will do your work for you and you shall have your full share of whatever money is made.  Stay a year if you wish, but try and find yourself before you come home.”

“I would like to do as you say, John, but a year is a long time to be away from the girl you love.  I should want her every hour and should be utterly miserable without her.”

John was silent and troubled.  Harry looked entreatingly at him, and it was hard to resist the pleading in the young man’s eyes.  Finally John asked a little coldly,

“Do you want to get married?”

“Not just yet—­if I can get mother to go with me.”

“To the Mediterranean?”

“Certainly.”

“Who is the girl?”

“Miss Lugur, the schoolmaster’s daughter.”

“Mother would not go.  You could not expect it.  I also should be much against her spending a year away from home.  Oh, you know it is out of the question!”

“I think mother will go.  I shall ask her.”