"Do you think a drop of cherry-brandy would warm you, neighbour?" she asked, after a while. "I wonder I never thought of that before; only, it is a sort of thing one does not recollect till winter comes. Shall I get you a sup of cherry-brandy?"

Ailwin thought it so odd that such an offer as this should not be replied to, that she looked hastily behind the screen, to see what could be the reason. There was reason enough. n.o.body was there. Nan Redfurn had made her way out as soon as she found herself alone, and was gone, with Ailwin's best winter stockings and linsey-woolsey cloak.

In a minute the whole party were looking over the hedge into the marsh.

Nothing was to be seen but the low brown tent, and the heap of little fish. Neither man, woman, nor boy appeared when their names were shouted forth.

"Oh! My best stockings!" said Ailwin, half crying.

"You have saved your cherry-brandy, my woman, that is certain," observed one of Gool's men.

"I shall never have any pleasure in it," sighed the maid. "I shall never enjoy it on account of its reminding me how yon woman has fooled me."

"Then we will save you that pain," said the man. "If you will oblige us with it to-day we won't leave any to pain you in the winter."

"For shame," cried Oliver, "when you know she has lost her stockings and her cloak already! And all out of kindness! I would not drink a drop of her cherry-brandy, I am sure."

"Then you shall, Oliver, for saying so, and taking my part," said Ailwin. "I am not going to give it to anyone else that has not the ague; some people may be a.s.sured of that."

"If I thought there was any cherry-brandy for me when I came back," said the man, throwing a stone down to try the nature of the bog-ground beneath, "I would get below there, and try what I could find. I might lay hold of a linsey-woolsey cloak somewhere in the bog."

"You can never catch the Redfurns, I doubt," said Ailwin. "What was it they said to you, Oliver, as they were going off?"

"They laughed at me for not being able to catch eels, and asked how I thought I should catch _them_. They said when I could decoy wild-fowl, I might set a trap for the Redfurns. But it does not follow that that is all true because they said it. I don't see but they might be caught if there was anyone to do us justice afterwards. That's the worst part of it, father says."

"There's father!" cried Mildred, as the crack of a whip was heard. All started off, as if to see who could carry bad news fastest. All arrived in the yard together, except Ailwin, who turned back to take up George, as he roared at being left behind.

"We must want a wise head or two among us," said the vexed miller. "If we were as sharp as these times require, we surely could not be at the mercy of folk we should scorn to be like. We must give more heed and see what is to be done."

"Rather late for that, neighbour, when here is the stock you were grinding and grinding for a week, all gone to plaster," said one of Gool's men.

"That is what I say," replied the miller, contemplating the waste; "but it may be better late than not at all."

Mrs Linacre was more affected than her husband by what had happened.

When she came home, poor Mildred's fort.i.tude had just given way, and she was crying over the body of her dear white hen. This caused Ailwin's eyes to fill at the thought of her stockings and cloak, so that the family faces looked cheerless enough.

"We deserve it all," said Mrs Linacre, "for leaving our place and our children to the care of Gool's men, or of anybody but ourselves. I will go no more to the spring. I have been out of my duty; and we may be thankful that we have been no further punished."

As she spoke a few tears started. Her tears were so rare, that the children looked in dismay at their father.

He gently declared that the more injury they suffered from the country-people the more they needed all the earnings they could make.

They must cling to the means of an honest maintenance, and not throw away such an employment as hers. He would not leave the children again while the Redfurns were in the neighbourhood. He would not have left them to-day, to serve anyone but the pastor; nor to serve even him, if he had not thought he had bespoken sufficient protection. Nothing should take him from home, or his eye off the children, to-morrow, she might depend upon it.

Mrs Linacre said that if she must go she should take a heavy heart with her. This was, she feared, but the first of a fresh series of attacks.

If so, what might not they look for next? However, she only asked to be found in her duty. If her husband desired her to go, she would go; but she should count over the hours of the day sadly enough.

Oliver ventured to bring up an old subject. He said what he most wanted was to have earned money enough to get a watch. He was sure he could hide it so that Roger should never guess he had one; and it would be such a comfort to know exactly how the time was going, and when to look for his mother home, instead of having to guess, in cloudy weather, the hour of the day, and to argue the matter with Ailwin, who was always wrong about that particular thing.

His father smiled mournfully, as he observed, that he hoped Oliver would never so want bread as to leave off longing for anything made of gold or silver.

CHAPTER THREE.

ONE WAY OF MAKING WAR.

Mrs Linacre went to the spring as usual, the next morning. If the weather had been doubtful--if there had been any pretence for supposing that the day might not be fine, she would have remained at home. But she looked in vain all round the sky for a cloud: and the wide expanse of fields and meadows in the Levels, with their waving corn and fresh green gra.s.s, seemed to bask in the sunshine, as if they felt its luxury.

It was a glowing August day;--just such a day as would bring out the invalids from Gainsborough to drink the waters;--just such a day as would tempt the traveller to stop under the shady shed, where he could see waters bubbling up, and taste of the famous medicinal spring, which would cure the present evil of heat, whatever effect it might have on any more lasting ailment. It was just the day when Mrs Linacre must not be missed from her post, and when it would be wrong to give up the earnings which she might expect before sun-down. So she desired her children not to leave the premises,--not even to go out of their father's sight and hearing; and left them, secure, at least, that they would obey her wishes.

They were quite willing to do so. Mildred looked behind her, every few minutes, while she worked in the garden, to see whether Roger was not there, and at every rustle that the birds made among the trees on the Red-hill,--the eminence behind the house,--she fancied that some one was hidden there. Oliver let his tools and his alabaster lie hidden, much as he longed to be at work with them. Mildred had lost her greatest treasure,--the white hen. He must take care of his greatest treasure.

Twice, in the course of the morning, he went in, having thought of a safer place; and twice more he put them back among the straw, as safest there after all. He let them alone at last, on Mildred saying that she was afraid Roger might somehow discover why he went in and out so often.

They ran to the mill three or four times to tell their father that the brown tent was still under the bank in the carr, and that they could see n.o.body; though the wild-ducks and geese made such a fluttering and noise, now and then, that it seemed as if some one was lurking about the ponds. Often in the course of the morning, too, did Mr Linacre look out of the mill-window, or nod to them from the top of the steps, that they might see that he did not forget them. Meantime, the white smoke curled up from the kitchen chimney, as Ailwin cooked the dinner; and little George's voice and hers were often heard from within, as if they were having some fun together.

The children were very hot, and began to say that they were hungry, and thought dinner-time was near, when they suddenly felt a strong rush of wind from the west. Oliver lost his cap, and was running after it, when both heard a loud shout from their father, and looked up. They had never heard him shout so loud as he now did, bidding them run up the Red-hill that moment. He waved his arm and his cap in that direction, as if he was mad. Mildred scampered up the hill. She did not know why, nor what was the meaning of the rolling, roaring thunder which seemed to convulse the air: but her head was full of Roger; and she thought it was some mischief of his. One part of the Red-hill was very steep, and the ground soft. Her feet slipped on the moss first, and when she had got above the moss, the red earth crumbled; and she went back at every step, till she caught hold of some brambles, and then of the trunk of a tree; so that, trembling and panting, she reached at last the top of the eminence.

When she looked round, she saw a rushing, roaring river where the garden had been, just before. Rough waters were dashing up against the hill on which she stood,--against the house,--and against the mill. She saw the flood spreading, as rapidly as the light at sunrise, over the whole expanse of the Levels. She saw another flood bursting in from the Humber, on the north-east, and meeting that which had just swept by;-- she saw the two floods swallowing up field after field, meadow after meadow, splashing up against every house, and surrounding all, so that the roofs, and the stacks beside them, looked like so many little islands. She saw these things in a moment, but did not heed them till afterwards,--for, where was Oliver?

Oliver was safe, though it was rather a wonder that he was so, considering his care for his cap. Oliver was an orderly boy, accustomed to take great care of his things; and it did not occur to him to let his cap go, when he had to run for his life. He had to part with it, however. He was flying after it, when another shout from his father made him look round; and then he saw the wall of water, as he called it, rolling on directly upon the house. He gave a prodigious spring across the garden ditch, and up the hill-side, and but just escaped; for the wind which immediately preceded the flood blew him down; and it was clinging to the trunk of a tree that saved him, as his sister had been saved just before. As it was, his feet were wet. Oliver panted and trembled like his sister, but he was safe.

Every one was safe. Ailwin appeared at an upper window, exhibiting little George. Mr Linacre stood, with folded arms, in the doorway of his mill; and his wife was (he was thankful to remember) on the side of a high hill, far away. The children and their father knew, while the flood was roaring between them, what all were thinking of; and at the same moment, the miller and his boy waved, the one his hat, and the other a green bough, high and joyously over their heads. Little George saw this from the window, and clapped his hands, and jumped, as Ailwin held him on the window-sill.

"Look at Geordie!" cried Mildred. "Do look at him! Don't you think you hear him now?"

This happy mood could not last very long, however, as the waters, instead of going down, were evidently rising every moment. From the first, the flood had been too deep and rapid to allow of the miller crossing from his mill to his house. He was a poor swimmer; and no swimmer, he thought, could have avoided being carried away into the wide marsh, where there was no help. Then, instead of the stream slackening, it rushed more furiously as it rose,--rose first over the wall of the yard, and up to the fourth--fifth--sixth step of the mill-ladder, and then almost into the branches of the apple-trees in the garden.

"I hope you will not mind being hungry, Mildred," said her brother, after a time of silence. "We are not likely to have any dinner to-day, I think."

"I don't mind that, very much," said Mildred, "but how do you think we are to get away, with this great river between us and home?"

"We shall see what father does," said Oliver. "He is further off still, on the other side."

"But what is all this water? When will it go away?"

"I am afraid the embankments have burst. And yet the weather has been fine enough lately. Perhaps the sluices are broken up."

Seeing that Mildred did not understand the more for what he said, he explained--

"You know, all these Levels were watery grounds once; more wet than the carr yonder. Well,--great clay banks were made to keep out the Humber waters, over there, to the north-east, and on the west and north-west yonder, to keep two or three rivers there from overflowing the land.

Then several ca.n.a.ls and ditches were cut, to drain the land; and there are great gates put up, here and there, to let the waters in and out, as they are wanted. I am afraid those gates are gone, or the clay banks broken down, so that the sea and the rivers are pouring in all the water they have."

"But when will it be over? Will it ever run off again? Shall we ever get home again?"

"I do not know anything about it. We must wait, and watch what father will do. See! What is this coming?"

"A dead horse!" exclaimed Mildred. "Drowned, I suppose. Don't you think so, Oliver?"

"Drowned, of course.--Do you know, Mildred," he continued, after a silence, during which he was looking towards the sheds in the yard, while his sister's eyes were following the body of the horse as it was swept along, now whirled round in an eddy, and now going clear over the hedge into the carr,--"do you know, Mildred," said Oliver, "I think father will be completely ruined by this flood."

"Do you?" said Mildred, who did not quite know what it was to be ruined.