“Yes, uncle, and we’ll have Macey there, and make him do all the tasting for being so malicious.”
“Tell me when it’s to be,” said Macey, grinning with delight at getting rid of his plate; “and I’ll arrange to be fetched home for a holiday.”
Chapter Five.
The Miller’s Boat.
Vane so frequently got into hot-water with his experiments that he more than once made vows. But his promises were as unstable as water, and he soon forgot them. He had vowed that he would be contented with things as they were, but his active mind was soon at work contriving.
He and Macey had borrowed Rounds the miller’s boat one day for a row. They were out having a desultory wander down by the river, when they came upon the bluff churchwarden himself, and he gave them a friendly nod as he stood by the roadside talking to Chakes about something connected with the church; and, as the boys went on, Macey said, laughing, “I say, Weathercock, you’re such a fellow for making improvements, why don’t you take Chakes in hand, and make him look like the miller?”
“They are a contrast, certainly,” said Vane, glancing back at the gloomy, bent form of the sexton, as he stood looking up sidewise at the big, squarely-built, wholesome-looking miller. “But I couldn’t improve him. I say, what shall we do this afternoon?”
“I don’t know,” said Macey. “Two can’t play cricket comfortably. It’s stupid to bowl and field.”