The smith was a loud, blatant fellow, so in the habit of using rough language that every sentence was accompanied with an oath.
Mr. Marion had taken Lee in to warm by the fire.
"I wonder what that horrible noise is!" he said. They had heard a harsh, grating sound, like some discordant grinding, ever since they came in sight of the shop.
Sikes pointed over his shoulder with his sooty thumb.
"It's an ole mill back yender. It's out o' gear somew'eres. It set me plumb crazy at first, but I'm gettin' used to it now."
"Let's go over and investigate," said Mr. Marion, anxious to get Lee out of such polluted atmosphere.
The miller, an easy-going old fellow, nearly as broad as he was long, did not even take the trouble to remove the pipe from his mouth, as he answered: "O, that! That's nothing but just one of the cogs is gone out of one of the wheels. I keep thinking I'll get it fixed; but there's always a grist a-waiting, so somehow I never get 'round to it. Does make an or'nery sound for a fact, stranger; but if I don't mind it, reckon nobody else need worry."
"Lazy old scoundrel," laughed Mr. Marion, after they had passed out of doors again. "I don't see how he stands such a horrible noise. It is a nuisance to the whole neighborhood."
When he reported the conversation at the smithy, Sikes swore at the miller soundly.
Frank Marion's eyes flashed, and he took a step forward.