till it must not be said that James was quite lost to all sense of what
was right. He often wished that he had not been led to do some of the
things that he did do. More than once he said to Ben, "Ben, I know that
is bad; I will not go with you."

Then Ben would laugh at him and say, "You know that is bad! That's very
fine; but you know that there are other things much worse by a long way.
Come on; don't go and say No when I ask you."

James would stand and think, and say to himself, "Where's the harm, just
for this once? I don't like not to please Ben, and when I marry Mary
I'll give it up, and all will be right."

So James went on from bad to worse, for he had not got in his heart
faith in God or love to Christ.

Mark Page did not mind James doing the bad things he did with Ben, for
he said, "If the two get into a scrape, Farmer Grey must get Ben out of
it for the sake of his nephew. Young men must sow their wild oats, and
may be he won't make the worse husband to Mary for it."

All this time Mark Page did not love Farmer Grey more than at first.
Not a day passed that he did not say something against him, or do
something to do him harm.

Farmer Grey knew this, but did not say an ill word to Mark. If he met
him it was always in a kind voice he said, "Good day, Mark Page. Good
day, miller. Fine breeze for the mill. No lack of grist, I hope; I
shall soon have some for you. Shall be glad to send my corn to your
mill."

"What can he want of me? I can do him no good;" growled the miller as
he walked on.

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 3.

It would have been a good thing for Mark Page if Sam Green had left him.
When Mark thought of doing anything bad, there was Sam at hand to say,
"Go on; no harm; you have a right to do what you like. No man should
tell me what I ought to do; that I know."

Sam was a stupid fellow too, as are many bad people, and it seemed
strange that he did not get into more scrapes than he did. He hated
Farmer Grey even more than did Mark Page. Why, it would have been hard
to say, except just for this cause, that Sam was a bad man and the
farmer was a good one.

The sails of the mill had been going round and round for many a day, and
hundreds of sacks of grist had been ground, when one night Mark was
roused from his sleep by the sound of the wind howling round the house.

"I made all right and snug at the mill," he thought; "there is no use to
get up and look to it." Still the wind w