pushed in after it his handkerchief, which was tied round something
which chinked as he pressed it in. Then he replaced the brick, and
went to bed. He said nothing about the bank in the morning nor
about the hole in the mill-wall; and he parried Mrs. Lake's
questions with gawky grins and well-assumed bashfulness.

Abel overheard his mother's jokes on the subject of "Gearge's young
'ooman," and they recurred to him when he and George formed a
curious alliance, which demands explanation.

It was not solely because the windmiller looked favorably upon the
little Jan that he and Abel were now allowed to wander in the
business parts of the windmill, when they could not be out of doors,
to an extent never before permitted to the children. Part of the
change was due to a change in the miller's man.

However childlike in some respects himself, George was not fond of
children, and he had hitherto seemed to have a particular spite
against Abel. He, quite as often as the miller, would drive the boy
from the round-house, and thwart his fancy for climbing the ladders
to see the processes of the different floors.

Abel would have been happy for hours together watching the great
stones grind, or the corn poured by golden showers into the hopper
on its way to the stones below. Many a time had he crept up and
hidden himself behind a sack; but George seemed to have an impish
ingenuity in discovering his hiding-places, and would drive him out
as a dog worries a cat, crying, "Come out, thee little varment!
Master Lake he don't allow thee hereabouts."