"So you had the trap-door atop busted open, did yer, sir?"
"Yes, and a terrible job to shut it," said Tom. "I thought we should
never get it fast."
"Ah, I arn't surprised. Wind's a blusterous sort o' thing when its
reg'lar on. Just look: here's a wreck and rampagin', sir. What am I to
begin to do next?"
"David!"
"Yes, sir; comin', sir," cried the gardener, in answer to a call; and as
he went off to where his master was pointing out loose slates and a
curled-up piece of lead on the roof to the village bricklayer, the
miserable howl came again from much nearer.
"Pete must be somewhere about," thought Tom; and then, after giving
another glance round at the damage done by the storm, he hurried out to
have a look round the village, going straight to the green, where half
the people were standing talking about the elms, which lay broken in a
great many pieces, showing the brittleness of the wood, for the huge
trunks had snapped here and there, and mighty boughs, each as big as a
large tree, were shivered and splintered in a wonderful way.
Every here and there a ruddy patch in the road showed where tile or
chimney-pot had been swept off and dashed to pieces. The sign at the
village inn had been torn from its hinges, and farther on Tom came upon
the Vicar examining the great gilt weather-cock on the little spire at
the top of the big square, ivy-clad tower.
He was at the edge of the churchyard using a small telescope, and
started round as Tom cried, "Good-morning."
"Ah, good-morning, Tom. What a night! There, you try. Your eyes are
young."
He handed the telescope.
"It's terrible, my lad," he said. "There's a barn out at Huggins's laid
quite flat, they say, and two straw-stacks regularly swept away."
"The stacks, sir?" cried Tom, pausing, glass in hand.
"Well, not all at once, but the straw. They tell me it has been swept
over the country for miles. I never remember such a storm here. I've
seen them on the coast."
"Why, the bar under the letters has bent right down, sir," said Tom,
after a minute's examination. "I can't see whether it's broken."
"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, tearing
along the sandy road, it began to bark furiously, and looked so vicious
that Tom stooped and picked up a big stone.
That was sufficient; the dog yelped aloud, turned, leaped over a hedge,
and ran for its life.
"Awful coward, after all," muttered Tom, throwing down the stone and
returning to the house, where he set to work and helped David for the
rest of the day.
Three times had David charged out after the dog, which kept coming and
howling close at hand, and each time the gardener came back grumbling
about some one having been "chucking that there dog bones."
"Cook says she arn't, sir, and t'other says she arn't; but I put it to
you, sir, would that there dog come a-yowling here if he warn't hungry?"
"Perhaps that's why he has come, David," said Tom.
"No, sir, not athout he expected to get something. I wish him and Pete
Warboys had been jolly well blowed out o' the parish last night, that I
do."
That night at intervals the dog came howling about the place, and kept
Tom awake for a while, but the exertions of the past night and the work
of the day had told so upon him that he fell into a heavy, dreamless
sleep, but only to be awakened just after sunrise by the mournful howl.