r
Tallington's wife, of Grimsey, the fen island under the old dyke.

Tom Tallington was seated upon one side of a rough punt, turned up to
keep the rain from filling it, and as he was not obliged to hold on with
his legs he kept swinging them to and fro.

It was not a pleasant place for either of the lads, for in front of them
was a ring of fire where, upon the ground, burned and crackled and fumed
a quantity of short wood, which was replenished from time to time by
Mark Hickathrift, the wheelwright, and his lad Jacob.

At the first glance it seemed as if the wheelwright was amusing himself
by making a round bonfire of scraps, whose blue reek rose in the country
air, and was driven every now and then by the wind over the boys, who
coughed and sneezed and grumbled, but did not attempt to move, for there
was, to them, an interesting feat about to be performed by the
wheelwright--to wit, the fitting of the red-hot roughly-made iron tire
in the wood fire upon the still more roughly-made wheel, which had been
fitted with a few new spokes and a fresh felloe, while Farmer
Tallington's heavy tumbril-cart stood close by, like a cripple supported
on a crutch, waiting for its iron-shod circular limb.

"Come, I say, Mark, stick it on," cried Dick Winthorpe; "we want to go."

"'Tarn't hot enough, my lad," said the great burly wheelwright, rolling
his shirt sleeves a little higher up his brown arms.

"Yes, it is," said Tom Tallington. "You can see it all red. Why don't
you put it on cold, instead of burning the wood?"

"'Cause he can't make one fit, and has to burn it on," said Dick.

The wheelwright chuckled and put on some more wood, which crackled and
roared as the wind came with a rush off the great fen, making the
scattered patches of dry reeds bend and whisper and rustle, and rise and
fall, looking in the distance of the grey, black, solemn expanse like
the waves of the sea on a breezy day.

"Oh! I say, isn't it choky!" cried Tom.

"Thou shouldstna sit that side then," said the wheelwright.

"Hoy, Dave!" shouted Dick Winthorpe. "Hi, there: Chip, Chip, Chip!" he
cried, trying to pat his leg with one hand, the consequence being that
he overbalanced himself and dropped off the post, but only to stay down
and caress a little black-and-white dog, which trotted up wagging its
stump of a tail, and then beginning to growl and snarl, twitching its
ears, as another dog appeared on the scene--a long, lank, rough-haired,
st