of bed and ran to the window. It was dull, certainly,
and a great heavy mist was rising from the soaked earth; but the ram had
ceased, and there were hopes that it might turn out a fine day. Having
satisfied himself upon this point, he went on tiptoe to his cousins'
room, where the lads were in their beds, one on each side of the window,
fast asleep, and looking as though they would not wake up for another
hour.

Fred was so proud of his achievement in being up first that he stood for
a moment considering what he should do, when, pulling a piece of string
from his pocket, he wetted it in the jug, and, twisting up one end,
proceeded to tickle Harry's nose with the soft point. Harry gave a
vicious rub at the irritated organ, and then another, and another, but
without opening his eyes. Fred then drew the string gently over eyes,
cheeks, and forehead, making the tormented boy twist and turn in his
bed, muttering something about "bothering flies." The next place of
attack was the ear, which was directly protected by the insertion of one
of Harry's fingers; so that Fred was obliged to return to the nose
again, all the time hardly driven to keep from laughing aloud; and this
time he titillated the poor fellow so unmercifully that he burst out
with a violent sneeze, and sitting up in bed was face to face with his
tormentor.

"Er-tchishew, er-tchishew!" said Harry, bouncing out of bed with his
pillow in his hand. "Phil! Phil!" he shouted, "here's a trespasser."

Philip jumped up and followed his brother's example, and between the two
poor Fred got so bolstered, or rather pillowed, that he was fain to cry
out for mercy, just as a sharp rapping at the wall told the boys that
they had disturbed the Squire.

Directly after breakfast the lads started to go to the mill, which was
the property of Mr Inglis, but held by one of his tenants, Mr Pollard.

"Oh! he has got such a rum fellow there for a man," said Harry; "we call
him Dusty Bob; but he's such a good chap, and will tell you all sorts of
tales about catching fish in mills; for he's always lived in watermills
ever since he was a boy. But his proper name's Peagrim."

The anxiety to see the "rum fellow"--Dusty Bob--made the boys hurry on,
but there were again so many attractions by the wayside that stoppages
were very frequent. The sandy roads had soaked up all the rain, but on
every leaf and spray heavy dew-drops were hanging and glittering in the
morning sun; whil