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but at least it was out of the wind, which made your ears ache.
    “He’s not afraid of hard work. And he’s picked up the technical side of things remarkably well. The millwright mentioned what a clever lad he is. I believe he’d have stolen him away given half a chance.”
    “And now that he’s in the office?”
    “Ned Haddon was unsettled by it all at first. He knows perfectly well I don’t mean my own nephew for the fulling stocks, and must have been wondering what it means for his own position. But I don’t see William sitting at a desk scratching paper all day, do you? He needs a wider canvas than that.”
    “William has taken my recipe for fruitcake over to Ned Haddon’s mother. We had a basket of walnuts in return.”
    Paul smiled. “He has a way of getting on with people. And Ned is settled again now.”
    “Does he get on too well with some?”
    “The spinsters?”
    She pressed her lips together.
    “If I heard anything that worried me unduly, I would put a stop to it. He’s a young man, Dora. You know what young men are.”
    Dora glanced at him, the ghost of his brother was suddenly present, and he wished he could take back what he’d just said.
    “This talk of card playing . . .” she went on.
    “Is there talk of card playing?”
    “So I have heard.”
    “I’ll speak to him. Leave it with me.” His brother’s specter diminished. “William is a fine young man, Dora. Don’t worry.”
    “And Charles? How is he?”
    Now it was Paul’s turn to look worried. “Oh, the same as ever. Supposed to be studying, but I hear word that he is too busy painting to be bothered with exams.”
    “Painting is better than card playing, I think. And there are no spinsters to tempt him there.”
    “Temptation takes many forms. Charles is keen to travel. My father does not wish him to go, of course.”
    “He wants him at the mill. It is only natural.”
    There was a chill in her words, and who could blame her. His father wished for the grandson that was absent from the mill, and begrudged the one that was there.
    Paul sighed. “I am afraid it does not come naturally to Charles to wish to be there. Not at present, anyhow. And now I have probably said too much.”
    William emerged from the vestry with the other choristers.
    They made friendly farewells, found their family members, and wrapped up against the advent chill, separated into pairs and little groups for the icy walk home.
    “What kept you so late in the vestry today, Will?”
    “Talk. Fred is engaged to be married.”
    “Fred Armstrong from the bakery? Who is the girl?”
    “Jeannie Aldridge.”
    His mother gave him a look out of the corner of her eye. “I thought at one time you were keen on Jeannie Aldridge.”
    William shrugged and made an indeterminate noise that might have meant Yes or No or What was that, could you say it again please, but that probably meant, It’s none of your business, Mother .

CHAPTER SIX

    P aul was not worried about the spinsters. He had the notion William sought his romantic escapades outside the mill. As for the card playing, well, that was foolish of him. He would have to speak to him about that. The boy would understand why it had to stop. Paul just hoped his father hadn’t got to hear about it.
    That very evening the topic of William arose at one of the regular conferences held between the old Mr. Bellman and the new.
    “He’s not pulling his weight, eh? This William of yours,” Mr. Bellman senior said.
    “He seems to be doing all right to me.”
    “That’s not what I’ve been told.”
    Once a week old Mr. Bellman did his rounds, and it was understood from the color of his questions that he was not unwilling to hear criticism of William. There were those who, out of loyalty to the old man or out of mischief, were willing to oblige.
    “What is it you’ve heard?” Paul sipped his whiskey.
    “Standing around, hands in pockets, staring into space while others work.”
    His father looked fiercely at