Guy betook himself to the mill, and called John Cooper into the room where the bottle of brandy was still locked up in the cupboard in the wall. He had often been as conscious of its presence there, as he could have been of that of the ghost; every morning he thought about it more and more persistently, and every evening when he went away he knew that the day's victory had left him with less strength for the morrow's conflict. Now, when he went up to the cupboard, and turned the key in the lock, and, with his keen ears heard the old manager's step crossing the court--it was to him as if another hand pushed the lock back--and another than himself suggested a different reason for the summons. But he stood still, leaning against the wall, till the old man came into the room. Then he put up his hand, and let the door swing open. "John Cooper," he said, "take that out, and take it away with you. I'll own you had right on your side. But you shouldn't have cackled about it to Mrs Waynflete." "Well now," said Cooper, in a rougher echo of the young man's slow, musical voice, "I've thought of that myself. I'm glad you've come to a better mind about it, Mr Guy, for I'd not be willing to see the old missus disappointed in your future." "She don't expect much," said Guy. "Now then," after Cooper had taken the brandy-bottle out of the cupboard, and set it beside a file of bills. "Now that you see I'm not going to send the business and myself to the dogs, shut the door, I've something to say." John Cooper obeyed, and Guy sat down by the table. "Now then," he repeated, "we are going to the dogs, and you know it. Let's look it in the face." "Eh, Mr Guy, trade's fluctuating. We'll pull round without letting th' owd lady know there's aught wrong." "Look here," said Guy, opening a paper, "d'ye think I've no brains in my head? Look at the number of orders for this year, and last year, and ten years back. Look at the receipts. What's the use of spending money on setting all those out-of-date old looms in order? Where's the sense of manufacturing the sort of goods people don't want, instead of what they do? Is that the way these mills were run sixty years ago, when old Mr Thomas managed the business?" "He got the new looms, sir." "Exactly so; and wouldn't he have seen long ago that they were worn out. Look here, John, we'll have to pull up, and put our shoulders to the wheel, or we'll have Palmer Brothers down among the failures before many months are over." "Eh, Mr Guy, for the Lord's sake don't say so. Don't mention such a thing. 'Tis those new mills over Rilston way--and the price of coals-- and trade being bad ever since the Government--Eh, my lad, just think of your old auntie, seeing all her life work undone, and having to sell the property she's so proud over." Here Guy started slightly, as the old man's voice choked.