So much time had been spent that, to the surprise of all, the early dawn was beginning to show, and as it broadened it displayed the sorry sight of one end of the mill blackened--a very mass of smoking and steaming timbers. "I say, Josh," said Will, "only look here! If the fire had got a little more hold and the wind had come more strongly down, the flames would have swept everything before them: the mill would have been like a burnt-out bonfire." "Yes," said Josh; "and the house must have gone too." "How horrid! But I say, why hasn't old Boil O been back?" The man had his own reasons. Not only did he not show himself again after his work was done, but when in the course of the morning, impatient at his non-appearance, his employer left the busy scene where a clearance of the ruined part was going on, and walked up to the cottage with the Vicar, it was only to catch a momentary glimpse of the man they sought, as he glided across his garden and made for the woods, utterly avoiding all advances made by those who wished him well; and instead of the breach being closed by his conduct, the wound purified by the fire, his rage against his master and all friendly to the mill seemed to burn more fiercely than ever. CHAPTER SIXTEEN. DOINGS IN THE DALE. "It's no use to bother," said Josh, when the state of affairs was being canvassed. "Father says there's only one cure for it." "What's that?" said Will. "Time." "I think," said Will, speaking seriously, "that your father, as he's a clergyman, ought to give old Boil O a good talking to." "What!" cried Josh. "Why, he's been to the cottage nearly every day, trying to get the old man to listen; but it only makes him more wild. Father says that he shall give it up now, and let him come to his senses." "Yes, I suppose that's best," said Will. "Everybody's been at him. Old Manners says he got him one evening at the bottom of the garden, but, as soon as he began to speak, old Boil O turned upon him so fiercely that he had to cut away." "Oh, yes, of course, I'm going to believe that!" said Josh. "Manners wouldn't run away from a dozen of him." "Well," cried Will, "he pretty well startled me when I had a try. I'm not going to do it any more, I can tell you." "My father's right," said Josh. "It only wants time." But time went on, and the work-people from the nearest town were hard at work day by day rebuilding and restoring, so that by degrees the traces of the late fire began to disappear, while new woodwork, beams, boards and rafters, bearing ruddy, bright new tiles, gave promise that within another three months the night's mishap would be a memory of the past. It was autumn--a splendid time for fishing; a better time for the painter, the artist declaring that the tints of the trees and bracken, the glow of the skies, and the lovely mists that floated down from the hills and up from the well-charged falls were more glorious than any he had ever seen before.