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viously disabled the fire-pump.
But far worse is to befall. One night, in the autumn rains, the dam that feeds the mill bursts its banks, and the village is flooded, with much being washed away. Did Drinkwater do this too? There is a dramatic finish to the book.
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WILL OF THE MILL, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN.
CHAPTER ONE.
DOWN IN THE COUNTRY.
"Here, I say, Josh, such a game!"
"What is it?"
The first speaker pointed down the gorge, tried to utter words, but began to choke with laughter, pointed again, and then stood stamping his feet, and wiping his eyes.
"Well," cried the other, addressed as Josh, "what is it? Don't stand pointing there like an old finger-post! I can't see anything."
"It's--it's--it's--he--he--he!--Oh my!--Oh dear!"
"Gahn! What an old silly you are! What's the game? Let's have a bit of the fun."
"The sun--sun--sun--"
"Don't stand stuttering there in that stupid way."
"I couldn't help it--there, I'm better now. I was coming along the top walk, and there he was right down below, sitting under his old white mushroom."
"Well, I can't see anything to laugh at in that. He always is sitting under his old white umbrella, painting, when he isn't throwing flies."
"But he isn't painting. He's fast asleep; and I could almost hear him snore."
"Well, if you could hear him snore, you needn't make a hyena of yourself. I don't see anything to laugh at in that."
"No; you never see any fun in anything. Don't you see the sun's gone right round, and he's quite in the shade?"
"Well, suppose he is; where's the fun?"
Will Willows wiped his eyes, and then, with a mirthful look, continued--
"Oh, the idea struck me as being comic--keeping a great umbrella up when it wasn't wanted."
"Oh, I don't know," said Josh,