Chapter 16

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_ CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

"Now, uncle, what's the next thing to be done?" said Tom at breakfast that morning.

"I think we may begin the body of the telescope now, Tom," said his uncle.

"The body?"

"Yes; the speculum is what we might call the life of the whole instrument, and the rest will be simplicity itself. We've got to bring a little mechanical work to bear, and the thing is done."

"But it will want a lot of glasses fixed about in a big tube, won't it?"

"No; nothing but the flat and eye-pieces, and I have the lenses to make these. By the way, I have some letters to write, and shall be busy all the morning. Your uncle seems to be still unwell, and I must write to him, for one thing. I tell you what I want done. We have no place there for keeping papers or drawings in, and where one can sit down and write at times, and lock up afterwards. I've been thinking that I'll have the big old bureau desk with its drawers taken out of the study, and carried up into the laboratory. It can stand beneath the shelves on the right of the east window; and you might take up a chair or two, and a piece of old carpet as well. Get David to help you."

"All right, uncle."

So when breakfast was over, Tom went out and found David, who was sticking stakes along the outside of the asparagus bed, and tying tarred twine from one to the other, so as to keep the plume-like stems from blowing about and breaking.

"Mornin', Master Tom," he said. "I say, my Maria Louisas are swelling out fast. We shall soon have to be on the look-out for pear-ketchers."

"All right, David, I'll help you. I hope it is Pete Warboys. I should like to give him stick."

"We'll give him stake instead, Master Tom."

"Never mind that now. I want you to help me move that chest of drawers and desk out of uncle's study to the laboratory."

"Very good, sir; but you might call a spade a spade."

"What do you mean?" said Tom, staring.

"Labor hatory, sir! why don't you say windmill?"

"Because it has been made into an observatory, laboratory, and workshop all in one," said Tom, rather stiffly.

"Just as you like, Master Tom; but you may take the sails off, and the fan, and put all the rattle-traps in it you like, but it can't make it anything but what it was born to be, and that was a windmill."

"Well, we won't argue," said Tom. "Come along."

He led the way to the study, where Uncle Richard was seated at a table writing, and it being a particularly dry day, David spent about five minutes wiping nothing off his shoes on every mat he passed, to Tom's great amusement. Then after making a bow and a scrape to his master which were not seen, he gave his nose a rub with his cuff, and went back to put his hat outside the door.

"Come along, David," said Tom. "This is it."

The gardener went on tiptoe to the end of the old escritoire, stooped, lifted it, and shook his head.

"You can't manage one end o' that, Master Tom," he said in a hoarse whisper.

"No, too weighty," said his master; and without looking round he passed his keys. "Take out the drawers, they're heavy, and carry them separately."

This plan was followed out, each taking a drawer and carrying it out through the garden, and across the lane to the yard gate, which Tom unlocked after resting his drawer on the wall; leaving it there while he ran up and unlocked the tower door, then going back for the load he had left.

These two drawers were carried into the stone-floored workshop, where the bench under the window was covered with an old blanket, another doing duty as cover for the glass tool which had been replaced on the head of the cask.

"My word! what a differ there is here," said David, as he glanced round with the drawer in his hands. "What yer put to bed under they blankets, sir?"

"Specula, David."

"Speckle-hay? What, are you forcing on 'em?"

"Forcing?" said Tom, laughing.

"Yes; are they coming up?"

"Nonsense! Here are those two great pieces of glass uncle brought down. We've been polishing one."

"Oh! them," cried David. "My word! Wonder what old miller would ha' said to see his place ramfoozled about like this?"

"Come along," cried Tom; and the drawers were carried up, each being crammed full of papers and books, and laid on the floor close to the old mill-post.

"Worser and worser," said David, looking round. "Dear, dear! the times I've been up here when the sacks was standing all about, some flour and some wheat, and the stones spinning round, the hopper going tippenny tap--tippenny tap, and the meal-dust so thick you could hardly breathe. I 'member coming out one night, and going home, and my missus says to me, 'Why, Davy, old man, what yer been a-doing on? Yer head's all powdered up like Squire Winkum's footman.' It was only meal, yer know."

"And now you can come and go without getting white, David," said Tom, moving a stool from under the newly put up shelves. "This is where the bureau is to go."

"Is it now?" said David, scratching his head. "Why that's where the old bin used to be. Ay, I've set on that bin many's the time on a windy night, when miller wanted to get a lot o' grist done."

"Back again," said Tom; and two more drawers were carried over. Then the framework and desk were fetched, with Mrs Fidler standing ready, dustpan and brush in hand, to remove any dirt and fluff that might be underneath.

"Tidy heavy now, Master Tom," said David, as they bore the old walnut-wood piece of furniture across the garden and up to the mill, only setting it down once just inside the yard by way of a rest, and to close the gate.

Then the piece of furniture was carried in, and after some little scheming, hoisted up the steep ladder flight of steps, David getting under it and forcing it up with his head.

"Wonderful heavy bit o' wood, Master Tom," said the gardener.

"It's an awkward place to get it up, David," replied the boy. "Now then, just under those shelves. It will stand capitally there, and get plenty of light for writing."

But the bureau did not stand capitally there, for the back feet were higher than the front, consequent upon the floor having sunk from the weight of millstones in the middle.

"She'll want a couple o' wedges under her, Master Tom," said David.

"Yes. I've got a couple of pieces that will just do--part of a little box," cried Tom. "I'll fetch them, and the saw to cut the exact size. You wait here."

"And put the drawers in, sir?"

"Not till we've got this right," replied Tom, who was already at the head of the steps; and he ran down and across to the house, obtained the saw from the tool-chest, and hurried back to the mill, where he found David down in the workshop, waiting for him with his hands in his pockets.

"Didn't yer uncle ought to leave his tool-chest over here, sir?" said the gardener.

"Oh yes, I suppose he will," said Tom. "It would be handier. Halloo, did you open that window?"

"No, sir. I see it ajar like when we first came, and it just blowed open like when the door was swung back."

Tom said no more, but led the way up-stairs, where the pieces of wood were wedged in under the front legs, sawn off square, and the drawers were replaced.

"Capital, Master Tom," cried the gardener. "You'd make quite a carpenter. I say, what's it like up-stairs?"

"Come and see," said Tom, ready to idle a little now the work was done, and very proud of the place he had helped to contrive.

David tightened his blue serge apron roll about his waist, and followed up into the observatory, smiling, but ready to depreciate everything.

"Ay, but it's a big change," he said; "no sacks o' wheat, no reg'lar machinery. There's the master's tallow scoop; he give me a look through it once, and there was the moon all covered with spots o' grease like you see on soup sometimes. Well, it's his'n, and he's a right to do what he likes with the place. Ah, many's the time I've been up here too. Why, Jose the carpenter chap's cut away the top of the post here. You used to be able to move a bit of an iron contrapshum, and that would send the fan spinning, and the whole top would work round till the sails faced the wind."

"Well, the whole top will work round now, David."

"Not it, sir, without the sails."

"But I tell you it will," said Tom, moving a bar, and throwing open the long shutter, which fell back easily, letting in a long strip of sunshine, and giving a view of the blue sky from low-down toward the horizon to the zenith.

"Well, you do get plenty of ventilation," said David oracularly. "Nothing like plenty of air for plants, and it's good for humans too. Make you grow strong and stocky, Master Tom. But the top used to turn all round in the old days."

"So it does now, so that uncle can direct his telescope any way. Look here!"

The boy moved to the side, and took hold of an endless rope, run round a wheel fixed to the side, pulled at the rope, and the wheel began to revolve, turning with it a small cogged barrel, which acted in turn upon the row of cogs belonging to the bottom of the woodwork dome, which began to move steadily round.

"Well, that caps me," said David. "I thought it was a fixter now."

"And you thought wrong, Davy," said Tom, going up two or three steps, and passing out through the open shutter, and lowering himself into the little gallery that had once communicated with the fan, and here he stood looking out.

"All right there, Master Tom?"

"Yes."

"May I move the thing?"

"If you like."

David, as eagerly as a child with a new toy, began to pull at the rope, when the top began to revolve, taking the little gallery with it, and giving Tom a ride pretty well round the place before the gardener stopped, and turned his face through the opening left by the shutter.

"Goes splendid!" he said, as Tom came in and closed the shutter. "I wouldn't ha' believed it. And so the master's going to build a big tallow scoop up there, is he?"

"Yes; and we've got a good deal of it done. There, let's get down. Uncle may want me."

"Ay, and I must get back to my garden, sir. There's a deal to do there, and I could manage with a lot of help."

"Uncle was talking of making this place quite a study, and putting a lot of books here, the other day," said Tom, as they descended to the laboratory.

"Was he now? Rare windy place, though, sir, isn't it? Windy milly place, eh?"

"Well, you said air was good," said Tom, laughing; and they went down into the workshop. "Mustn't have that window left open though," said Tom; and, going to the side, he reached over the bench with the blanket spread over it, drew in the iron-framed lattice window, and fastened it, and was drawing back, when the blanket, which had been hanging draped over a good deal at one end, yielded to that end's weight, and glided off, to fall in a heap upon the stones.

Tom stooped quickly to pick it up, but as his head was descending below the level of the great bench-table, he stopped short, staring at its bare level surface, rose up, turned, and looked sharply at the gardener, and then in quite an excited way stepped to where the upturned cask stood covered with its blanket, and raised it as if expecting to find something there.

But the glass disc his uncle spoke of as a tool lay there only; and with a horrible feeling of dread beginning to oppress him, Tom turned back to the heap of blanket lying upon the floor, stooped over it, but feared to remove it--to lift it up from the worn flagstones.

"Anything the matter, sir?" said David, looking at him curiously from the door.

"Matter? Yes!" cried Tom, who was beginning to feel a peculiar tremor. "David, you--you opened that window."

"Nay, sir, I never touched it," said the gardener stoutly.

"Yes; while I was gone for the saw and wedges."

"Nay, sir, I come down and just looked about, that's all; I never touched the window."

"But--but there was the beautiful, carefully-ground speculum there on that bench, just as uncle and I had finished it. We left it covered over last night--with the blanket--and--and--" he added in a tone of despair, "it isn't there now."

"Well, I never touched it, sir," said the gardener; "you may search my pockets if you like."

Tom could not see the absurdity of the man's suggestion, and in his agony of mind, feeling as he did what must have happened if any one had dragged at the blanket, he stooped down once more to gather it up, but paused with his hand an inch or two away from the highest fold, not daring to touch it.

"It's broken," he moaned to himself; "I know it is!" and the cold perspiration stood out upon his forehead.

"I shouldn't ha' persoomed to touch none o' master's contrapshums, sir," broke in the gardener, rather sharply, "so don't you go and tell him as I did. I know how partickler he always is."

"Broken--broken!" murmured Tom. "The poor speculum--and after all that work."

Then slowly taking the fold of the blanket in his hand he raised it up, and drew it on one side, faintly hoping that he might be wrong, but hoping against hope, for the next moment he had unveiled it where it lay, to see his worst fears confirmed--the beautiful limpid-looking object lay upon the flag at the end, broken in three pieces, one of which reflected the boy's agitated face. _

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