ed the three floors of the mill, a liberal allowance
of a dark stain and varnish giving the finishing touches, so that in
what had been a remarkably short space of time the ramshackle old mill
had become a very respectable-looking observatory, only waiting for the
scientific apparatus, which had to be made.

The next thing was the clearing out of the yard, where, under David's
superintendence, a couple of labouring men had a long task to cut up old
wood and wheel it away, to be stacked in the coach-house and a shed.
The great millstones were left--for ornament, Uncle Richard said; and as
for the old iron, he said dryly to Tom, as they stood by the heap--

"Seems a pity that so many of these pieces were too heavy to lift."

"Why; uncle? Two men can lift one."

"Yes," said Uncle Richard; "but one boy can't, or it would all have been
cleared away for me."

Tom looked in the dry quaint face, which appeared serious, although the
boy felt that his uncle was in one of his humorous moods.

"There must be a strange fascination about stealing, Tom," he continued,
"for, you see, quite half of that old iron is gone."

"More," said Tom.

"Yes, more, my boy. Strange what trouble rogues will take for very
little. Now, for instance, I should say that whatever might have been
its intrinsic worth, whoever stole that old iron could not possibly
altogether have sold it for more than five shillings, that is to say,
about one shilling per week."

"Is it five weeks since the men began to pull down, uncle?"

"Five weeks yesterday; and that amount could have been earned by an
industrious boy in, say, four days, and by a labouring man in two. I'm
afraid, Tom, that dishonesty does not pay."

David, who was close by, helping to load the remainder of the old iron
into a cart, edged up to Tom as soon as Uncle Richard had gone into the
mill.

"Strikes me, Master Tom," he said, "as I could put my hand on him as
stole that there old iron."

"Who do you think it was, David?"

"Not going to name no names, sir," said David, screwing up his lips, and
tightening a roll of blue serge apron about his waist. "Don't do to
slander your neighbours; but if you was to say it was old Mother
Warboys' hulking grandson, I wouldn't be so rude as to contradick you;
not as I say it is, mind you, but I've knowed that chap ever since he
was a dirty little gipsy whelp of a thing, and I never yet knowed him
take anything as was out of his reach."

Tom