This the old man said in a tone that seemed to signify some offence, or at least a readiness to take offence if more were said to him about his son. The clergyman did not sit down, but stood close over the father, looking down upon him; and the miller went on with his pipe gazing into the clear blue sky. "I do want him, Mr. Brattle." Then he stopped, and there was a pause. The miller puffed his pipe, but said not a word. "I do want him. I fear, Mr. Brattle, he's not coming to much good." "Who said as he was? I never said so. The lad'd have been well enough if other folks would have let him be." "I know what you mean, Mr. Brattle." "I usually intend folks to know what I mean, Muster Fenwick. What's the good o' speaking else? If nobody hadn't a meddled with the lad, he'd been a good lad. But they did, and he ain't. That's all about it." "You do me a great injustice, but I'm not going to argue that with you now. There would be no use in it. I've come to tell you I fear that Sam was at no good last night." "That's like enough." "I had better tell you the truth at once. He was about my place with two ruffians." "And you wants to take him afore the magistrate?" "I want nothing of the kind. I would make almost any sacrifice rather. I had him yesterday night by the collar of the coat, and I let him go free." "If he couldn't shake himself free o' you, Muster Fenwick, without any letting in the matter, he ain't no son of mine." "I was armed, and he couldn't. But what does that matter? What does matter is this;--that they who were with him were thoroughly bad fellows. Was he at home last night?" "You'd better ax his mother, Muster Fenwick. The truth is, I don't care much to be talking of him at all. It's time I was in the mill, I believe. There's no one much to help me now, barring the hired man." So saying, he got up and passed into the mill without making the slightest form of salutation.