Mrs Fidler
and another woman.

He tried to get to him, but the slightest effort made his head swim, and
he was fain to lie still and listen, while David went on talking
excitedly.

"I was down the garden digging up the first crop o' taters, when I see a
flash o' lightning, and then came a clap o' thunder as sharp as the
crack of a whip. It made my ears sing. Then as I run to see, I hears
Pete Warboys yelling out--`They shot me with a big gun--they shot me
with a big gun.'"

"Hadn't some one better fetch the doctor?" said a fresh voice.

"He's gone out," cried another.

"Shot me with a big gun," yelled Pete again.

"Thank you, yes, thank you," came now in a voice which made Tom Blount's
heart leap. "I don't think I am much hurt. Where is my boy Tom?"

"I'm all right, uncle," cried the boy eagerly, though he felt very far
from being so; and he heard a few murmured words of thankfulness.

"Where is Mr Maxted?"

"I am here," said the Vicar, "not much hurt. But tell me, how are your
eyes?"

"Rather dim and misty. But what was it?" said Uncle Richard, rather
feebly; "an explosion?"

"Shot me with a big gun--shot me with a big gun."

"Will some one put a tater in that boy's ugly mouth," cried David
indignantly. "I tell yer all it was thunder and lightning. I saw one
and heard t'other, both sharp together."

"Yes, yes, yes. Didn't I always tell you so?" cried a shrill voice; and
Tom looked round, to dimly make out Mother Warboys bending over her
grandson, who was now sitting on the grass close under the wall, where
he had been placed. "I always said it. His punishment's come at last
for all his wicked tricks and evil dealings."

"And one in hers too," cried David. "A wicked old sinner! Hold your
tongue, will you!"

"Nay, nay, I'll hold no tongue," cried Mother Warboys. "He's a wicked
man-witch, and allays doing evil and making charms."

"Shot me with a big gun, granny."

"Hold thy tongue, boy. It's come to him at last--it's come to him at
last. I always telled ye that he was a bad, wicked one. Now he's
punished."

"Oh dear me! I cannot put up with this," muttered the Vicar. "David,
my good fellow, give me your hand. Thank you--that's better. I think I
can stand now. Oh, yes. That's right; but I've lost my glasses."

"Here they are, sir," said a voice, "but they're all crushed to bits."

"Then I must do without them, I suppose."

"An old wicked one, who buys up mills and starves