and several sheets of paper,
the speculum was carefully lifted, turned over face downwards, covered
with another cloth, and left close to the wall.

"No fear of that falling any farther," said Uncle Richard, smiling, as
he crossed the workshop deliberately. "Now for the polishing."

He cut off a piece of the soft, delicate leather, about three inches
square, made a ball-like pad of cotton-wool, and covered it with the
leather, and then tied the ends tightly with some of the twine, making
what resembled a soft leather ball with a handle, and patted it in his
hand so as to flatten it a little.

"Now then," he said, "this is to be another magic touch. If I succeed,
you will see your faces brilliantly reflected in the glass; if I fail--"

"If you fail," said the Vicar, laughing, "I can't apply Lord Lytton's
words to you. If it were Tom, I should say, `In the bright lexicon of
youth, there is no such word as fail.'"

"Very well then, though no longer youthful, I'll take the words to
myself. Now then for the magic touch that shall change this dull opaque
silver to glistening, dazzling light."

He held the leather polisher over the glass for a few moments, and then,
as the others looked on, he let it fall smartly upon the silvered face,
covered with greyish powder, and began to rub it smartly, when--

_Crash_!

One cutting, tearing, deafening, sharp, metallic-sounding explosion,
that seemed to shake the old mill to its foundations; the windows were
blown out; bottles, vessels, and tray were shivered, and the glass flew
tinkling in all directions; and then an awful silence, succeeded by a
strange singing noise in the ears, through which, as Tom struggled
half-stunned and helpless to his feet, he could hear a loud shrieking
and yelling for help.

"What has happened? what, has happened?" he muttered, as he clapped his
hands to his ears, and tried to look about him; but his eyes had been
temporarily blinded by the brilliant flash of light which had blazed
through the workshop, and some moments elapsed before he could make out
whence came a moaning--"Oh dear me, oh dear me!"

Then he dimly saw the Vicar seated on the floor against the wall,
holding his hands to his ears, and rocking himself gently to and fro.

Hardly had Tom realised this when he caught sight of Richard Brandon
upon his side in the middle of the place, perfectly motionless; and,
with his ears singing horribly, the boy ran to his uncle's side, and