and looked very serious, but he uttered a low
chuckle as he led the way into a snug little room, half-library,
half-museum. A long, heavy chest stood on one side, formed of plain,
dark-coloured wood; but upon its being opened, Tom saw that it was all
beautifully polished ornamental wood inside, and full of drawers, trays,
and fittings for bright saws, hammers, chisels, and squares.

"My old tool-chest, Tom. I used to have that at Sattegur in my
bungalow, and do most of my carpentering myself, for the natives there
are not much of hands when you want anything strong. When you want a
tool--bradawl, gimlet, pincers, anything--here they all are." He opened
and shut drawers rapidly as he spoke. "Nails, screws, tacks, you'll
know where to find them, only put things back when done with. What did
I come for? Oh, a rule. Here we are." He took a new-looking boxwood
rule from its place, closed the lid, and then led the way out into the
garden, up a flight of steps formed of rough pieces of tree, and leading
in a winding way through a shrubbery to a doorway in a wall. Passing
through this, they were in a narrow lane, and close to the yard which
enclosed the great brick tower of the mill.

"Nice and handy for conveying the flour-sacks to and fro, Tom, eh?" said
Uncle Richard, smiling. "Now then, let's have another inspection of the
new old property."

He took out a bunch of old keys, unlocked the gate, and entered; and
then they crossed the yard, which was littered with old wood, and with
here and there a worn-out millstone leaning against the walls, two extra
large ones bound with rusty iron standing up like ornaments on either
side of the mill-tower door, one above whitened with ancient flour,
having evidently been used for loading carts drawn up close beneath.

"Splendid place, eh, Tom?" said Uncle Richard, as he unlocked the door,
which uttered a low groan as its unoiled hinges were used, and a
peculiar odour of old mildewed flour came from within. "We shall have a
place now in case of invasion or civil war, ready for retreat and
defence. We can barricade the lower doors, and hurl down the upper and
nether millstones on the enemies' heads, set the mill going, and mow
them down with the sails, and melt lead ready to pour down in ladlefuls
to make them run from the scalding silver soup. A grand tower for
practising all those old barbaric delights."

"Yes, sir," said Tom uneasily, for his uncle looked at him
pene