."

"Not likely to be, Tom," said the Vicar; "it is of copper. See anything
else broken?"

"One of the arms--the one with the E on it--is hanging right down."

"Hah! Well, it must be mended. Did you hear the small bell in the
night?"

"No," said Tom.

"It kept on giving a bang every now and then, for the tower shutters are
all gone on the other side. Four came into my garden. I can't find
more, so I suppose they have been blown into the tower among the bells.
Good-morning. I must go round the place and see who is damaged. Your
uncle says you nearly had the top off the mill, and that you behaved
splendidly."

"Oh, nonsense, sir!" said Tom, colouring. "I only nailed down the top
shutter."

"Only? Well, Tom, I wouldn't have got up there and nailed it down for
all the telescopes in England. Good-morning."

They parted, and Tom continued his way round by the church, getting a
glimpse of the gaping window opening in the tower where the bells hung
exposed; and then after passing a great horse-chestnut lying in the next
field, he went on round by Mother Warboys' and the other cottages,
catching sight of the old woman standing at her door, with her hand over
her eyes, as if watching.

The next minute she caught sight of him, and shouted. Then she shook
her stick at him, and said something in a threatening way.

But the boy hurried on, crossed the fields, got into the narrow lane,
and then went on and on till he was able to turn into the road which
divided his uncle's field and grounds from the mill-yard.

No sooner had he turned into the sandy road than his ears were saluted
by the dismal howling of Pete's dog, which was evidently somewhere near
the mill.

"What a nuisance!" thought Tom, and he paused for a few moments, looking
in that direction. "Bound to say Master Pete's hanging about somewhere,
and the dog can't find him."

However, he did not stop, but trotted off in the opposite direction to
have a look at Huggins's barn, which lay completely flat, the thatch
scattered, and the wooden sides and rafters strewed all over the
farm-yard.

Of the two straw-stacks nothing was visible on the spot but the round
patches of faggots upon which they had been raised. The straw itself
decorated hedges, hung in trees, and was spread over fields as far as he
could see.

All at once he heard a yelp, and turning, there was Pete Warboys' dog
racing toward him as hard as it could come. As it drew nearer, tea