“Well, mother, you know none of the Naylors are Methodists; that sets them down with Greenwood.  The Naylors are all right.  Fred Naylor has been very kind to me.”

“Did you speak to John about them?”

“Greenwood had already spoken and John was angry and got into a passion at a simple business proposal they made.”

“John was right, he was that.  I was in a passion myself, when I heard of their proposal—­downright impudence, I call it.”

“Nay, mother.  They offered good money for what they asked.  There was no impudence in that.  It was just business.”

“Naylors have no good money, not they.  The kind they do have would blacken and burn Hatton’s hands to touch.  Thy father ran the whole kith and kit of the Naylors out of Hatton village the very year of thy birth.  He wouldn’t have them in his village if he was alive and while I am lady of Hatton Manor they are not coming back here.  I will see to that.”

“There is a new generation of Naylors now, and——­”

“They are as bad and very likely worse than all before them.  Families that don’t grow better grow worse.  Greenwood says they are worse; but I’m not standing on what he says.  Thy father despised them, that is a fact I can rely on and work from.”

“Father is dead, and he——­”

“Not he!  He is living, and more alive than he ever was.  He comes to me often.”

“When you are asleep, I suppose.”

“You suppose right.  But, Harry, can you tell me what passes in that state of sleep when I or you or any other sleeper is shut up from every human eye; when all the doors of the body are closed, and all the windows darkened?  Speak, my lad, of what you know something about, but dreaming is a mystery to far wiser men than you are, or are likely to be—­unless Wisdom should visit you while you are dreaming.”

“Well, mother, I am going away for a year, and during that time I shall forget the Naylors and they will forget me.”

“Whatever are you talking about, Harry Hatton?  I will not hear of you going on such a journey—­no matter where to, so now you know.”

“It is John’s advice.”

“It is very poor advice.  For steady living in, there is no place like Yorkshire.”

“I was telling John today what I have often told you, how I hated the mill, how sick it made me, and that I must sell my interest in it in order to do something else.  Then John made me a proposal, and if you think well of it I will do as John advises.  But let us go to the porch, it is so hot here.  It feels like the dog days.”

“No wonder, with the toggery you have on your back.  Whatever in the world led you to make such a guy of yourself?  I hope you didn’t come through the village.”

“I did.  I had my horse brought to Oxbar Station, for that very purpose.”

“Well, I never!  Do you think you look handsome in those things?”

“I do.”