the poor people screamed and screeched and said, "Let us out! Let
us out!" That was just what the Chief Man wanted.

When the Poor Brother came in, they picked him up at once, and put him
over one of the hottest fires, and began to turn him round and round like
the rest; and of course the Chief Man came up to him and said, "Eh, how do
you feel now? How do you feel now?" But the Poor Brother did not say, "Let
me out! Let me out!" He said, "Pretty well, thank you."

The Chief Man grunted and said to the other men, "Make the fire hotter."
But the next time he asked the Poor Brother how he felt, the Poor Brother
smiled and said, "Much better now, thank you." The Chief Man did not like
this at all, because, of course, the whole object in life of the people
Below was to make their victims uncomfortable. So he piled on more fuel
and made the fire hotter still. But every time he asked the Poor Brother
how he felt, the Poor Brother would say, "Very much better"; and at last
he said, "Perfectly comfortable, thank you; couldn't be better."

You see when the Poor Brother was on earth he had never once had money
enough to buy coal enough to keep him warm; so he liked the heat.

At last the Chief Man could stand it no longer.

"Oh, look here," he said, "you can go home."

"Oh no, thank you," said the Poor Brother, "I like it here."

"You _must_ go home," said the Chief Man.

"But I won't go home," said the Poor Brother.

The Chief Man went away and talked with the other men; but no matter what
they did they could not make the Poor Brother uncomfortable; so at last
the Chief Man came back and said,--

"What'll you take to go home?"

"What have you got?" said the Poor Brother.

"Well," said the Chief Man, "if you'll go home quietly I'll give you the
Little Mill that stands behind my door."

"What's the good of it?" said the Poor Brother.

"It is the most wonderful mill in the world," said the Chief Man.
"Anything at all that you want, you have only to name it, and say, 'Grind
this, Little Mill, and grind quickly,' and the Mill will grind that thing
until you say the magic word, to stop it."

"That sounds nice," said the Poor Brother. "I'll take it." And he took the
Little Mill under his arm, and went up, and up, and up, till he came to
his own house.

When he was in front of his little old hut, he put the Little Mill down on
the ground and said to it, "Grind a fine house, Little Mill, and grind
quickly." And the Litt