The sun sank and the warmth began to fail. He felt he was wet. And then he ran home, light as a feather.
There were summer visitors at the Castle, a party from town, with dancing and revelry. And the flag flew night and day from the round tower for a week.
And there was the hay to be carried, but the horses were all taken up by the holiday makers and the hay was left out. And there were fields and fields of uncut grass, but all the farm hands were pressed into service as coachmen and boatmen and the grass was left to spoil.
And the music never ceased in the yellow drawing-room.
The old Miller stopped his mill and locked it up while this went on. He had learnt wisdom, for he had known the times when the rollicking townspeople had come in a body and played practical jokes with his sacks of corn. For the nights were so warm and light and they invented all manner of diversions. The rich Chamberlain in his young days had once with his very own hands carried an ant-heap in a trough into the mill and left it there. Now the Chamberlain was well on in years but Otto his son still came to the Castle and found strange ways of amusing himself. Many tales were told about him....
The sound of hoofs and shouting come through the wood. The young people were out for a ride and the Castle horses were glossy and fresh. The party came up to the Miller's house, knocked with their whips and wanted to ride in. The door was so low and yet they wanted to ride in.
"Good day, good day," they cried. "We came to say how d'ye do."
The Miller laughed obsequiously at the joke.
Then they dismounted, tied up their horses and started the mill.