ent on howling through the
windows and doors, and the window-panes shook and rattled, and the doors
creaked, and it seemed at times as if the house would come down.

"Will the mill stand it?" asked Mark of himself. He tried to go to
sleep again, but he could not. He thought and he thought of all sorts
of things which he could not drive out of his head.

When a good man thinks at night, his thoughts may often be pleasant; but
when a bad man thinks, and thinks, as did Mark Page, in spite of
himself, his thoughts are very sad and full of pain.

Mark thought of the many bad things he had done. There was not one good
deed he could think of. "If I was to die where should I go to?" he
asked himself. "If my mill was to be blown down, who would pity me?
What friends have I? What have I done to gain friends? Not one thing.
I am not kind to the poor; I do not give anything to help them. No one
loves me; no one cares for me. My son does not; he never does what I
ask him. My wife does not, she never cares to please me. Mary does,
may be; but then she looks at me as if she wished that I was different
to what I am. Oh I do wish the day would come, that I might get up and
go about my work and not think of all these things."

Still the wind howled and moaned and whistled, and the doors and windows
rattled, and the rain came down, pat, pat, pat, on the roof, and the
water rushed by the house in torrents, and the walls shook as if they
would come down.

"Oh if the roof was to fall in and kill me!" thought the miller: "where
shall I be to-morrow?" At last the noises ceased, and sleep shut the
miller's eyes. When he awoke the storm was over. He looked out to see
if any harm had come to his mill. There it stood, the long arms stuck
out just as usual. He was soon dressed. On his way to the mill he
called Sam Green. When they got near they found that the wind had done
harm to some of the sails of the mill, which were stretched on the long
arms.

"Sam, before the mill can go we must mend these sails," said the miller.
"Go to the house and get the tools; you and I can do it."

"Yes, master," said Sam. "It would be a rum mill-sail I couldn't
tackle."

Sam brought the tools, and he and Mark Page went into the mill. They
found that the storm had done some harm to the inside of the mill, and
that two or three things were out of place. They soon put them right
though, as they thought, and then they set to work to mend t