ing, I think," said
Mrs Merryboy, junior, listening.

Granny, observing the action, pretended to listen, and smiled.

"He's either unusually jolly or unusually savage--a little more tea,
mother," said Tim Lumpy, pushing in his cup.

Tim, being father-and-motherless, called Mr Merryboy father and the
wife mother. So did Martha, but Bobby Frog, remembering those whom he
had left at home, loyally declined, though he did not object to call the
elder Mrs Merryboy granny.

"Something for good or evil must have happened," said Bobby, laying down
his knife and fork as the growling sound drew nearer.

At last the door flew open and the storm burst in. And we may remark
that Mr Merryboy's stormy nature was, if possible, a little more
obtrusive than it used to be, for whereas in former days his toes and
heels did most of the rattling-thunder business, the stick now came into
play as a prominent creator of din--not only when flourished by hand,
but often on its own account and unexpectedly, when propped clumsily in
awkward places.

"Hallo! good people all, how are 'ee? morning--morning. Boys, d'ee know
that the saw-mill's come to grief?"

"No, are you in earnest, father?" cried Tim, jumping up.

"In earnest! Of course I am. Pretty engineers you are. Sawed its own
bed in two, or burst itself. Don't know which, and what's more I don't
care. Come, Martha, my bantam chicken, let's have a cup of tea. Bother
that stick, it can't keep its legs much better than myself. How are
you, mother? Glorious weather, isn't it?"

Mr Merryboy ignored deafness. He continued to speak to his mother just
as though she heard him.

And she continued to nod and smile, and make-believe to hear with more
demonstration of face and cap than ever. After all, her total loss of
hearing made little difference, her sentiments being what Bobby Frog in
his early days would have described in the words, "Wot's the hodds so
long as you're 'appy?"

But Bobby had now ceased to drop or misapply his aitches--though he
still had some trouble with his R's.

As he was chief engineer of the saw-mill, having turned out quite a
mechanical genius, he ran down to the scene of disaster with much
concern on hearing the old gentleman's report.

And, truly, when he and Tim reached the picturesque spot where, at the
water's edge among fine trees and shrubs, the mill stood clearly
reflected in its own dam, they found that the mischief done was
considerable. T