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outhouses, the farmer not only showing them what to do, but working away
with his own hands as hard as any one. At last the fire was got under,
and the mill was saved; but the house was burnt to the ground.
Just then the miller came back. He began to storm and rage, and asked
who had burned down his house. "That we have to learn, neighbour,"
answered Farmer Grey. "It may be found that no one burned it down, and
let us be thankful that things are not worse. However, come up to my
house; there are rooms and a sup for you till your own house is rebuilt;
your wife and daughter are already there."
"I wonder you can think of asking me, Farmer Grey," said Mark. "I have
not given you much thanks for the good deeds you have already done me."
"Don't think of that, just now, neighbour," answered Farmer Grey. "We
are bound to do good--or right, call it--and not to think of the return
we are to get. If God was only to give His blessings to those who were
sure to be grateful for them, He would give us far less than He does.
We should get little or nothing, I suspect."
So the miller went to Farmer Grey's house with his wife and daughter.
It seemed strange to him to find himself there, and stranger still to
feel the kind way in which the farmer treated him. Even now he could
not understand it.
At last his house was finished, and he and his family went into it.
Mark had spent a good deal of money in rebuilding his house; and though
the mill itself wanted repairing, he said that he must put that off till
another year; he and Sam Green would patch it up to last till that time.
That year passed by, and another came, and had nearly gone, and still
nothing was done to the mill. One evening in autumn, the wind was
blowing strong, and making even the new house shake, while it whistled
and howled through doors and windows. The arms of the mill had been
secured, Sam Green had gone home, and the miller himself, thinking that
all was right, went to bed. The wind increased, the house shook more
and more; there was a fearful gale blowing. On a sudden he woke with a
start. There was a crash,--then another,--and at last another, louder
than either of the first. The weather, however, was so rough that he
could not get up. Again he went to sleep. As soon as it was daylight
he looked out. "Where was the mill?" Instead of seeing it, as he
expected, against the cold grey sky of the autumn morning, he saw
nothing at all. H
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