ined by the sloping roof. In front of the building there ran a
road,--which after all was no more than a private lane. It crossed
the smaller stream and the mill-run by two wooden bridges; but the
river itself had been too large for the bridge-maker's efforts, and
here there was a ford, with stepping-stones for foot passengers. The
banks on every side were lined with leaning willows, which had been
pollarded over and over again, and which with their light-green wavy
heads gave the place, from a distance, the appearance of a grove.
There was a little porch in front of the house, and outside of that a
fixed seat, with a high back, on which old Brattle was sitting when
the parson accosted him. He did not rise when Mr. Fenwick addressed
him; but he intended no want of courtesy by not doing so. He was on
his legs at business during nearly the whole of the day, and why
should he not rest his old limbs during the few mid-day minutes which
he allowed himself for recreation?

"I thought I should catch you idle just at this moment," said the
clergyman.

[Illustration: "I thought I should catch you idle just at
this moment," said the clergyman.]

"Like enough, Muster Fenwick," said the miller; "I be idle at times,
no doubt."

"It would be a bad life if you did not,--and a very short one too.
It's hot walking, I can tell you, Mr. Brattle. If it goes on like
this, I shall want a little idle time myself, I fear. Is Sam here?"

"No, Muster Fenwick, Sam is not here."

"Nor has been this morning, I suppose?"

"He's not here now, if you're wanting him."

This the old man said in a tone that seemed to signify some offence,
or at least a readiness to take offence if more were said to him
about his son. The clergyman did not sit down, but stood close over
the father, looking down upon him; and the miller went on with his
pipe gazing into the clear blue sky.

"I do want him, Mr. Brattle." Then he stopped, and there was a pause.
The miller puffed his pipe, but said not a word. "I do want him. I
fear, Mr. Brattle, he's not coming to much good."

"Who said as he was? I never said so. The lad'd have been well enough
if other folks would have let him be."

"I know what you mean, Mr. Brattle."

"I usually intend folks to know what I mean, Muster Fenwick. What's
the good o' speaking else? If nobody hadn't a meddled with the lad,
he'd been a good lad. But they did, and he ain't. That's all about
it."

"You do me a great injusti