congratulating him. Among them was Regina Woodworthy and the former members of the Grange Gang. Amy
clasped Ben's hand. "Look at my brother, the village hero, thanks to you, Ben."
The boy warded off an embrace from Eileen and little Willum, who had painted his face with a toffee apple
somebody had given him.
"Don't be silly, pal. Look at Ned. He knows the safest place—under the cart. Come on, Amy!"
They scrambled beneath the gig, laughing at the sight of Blodwen Evans leaning out of the bedroom window,
waving a Union Jack and a Welsh red dragon flag, and hooting.
"Put those deeds back in my hat box, Dai, let's open the shop!"
Mr. Bowe's normally sallow face had taken on an ash-grey pallor as he turned his accusing gaze on Obadiah
Smithers. "So, the old lady presents no problem, eh? Fool! I should never have listened to you and your harebrained
schemes. Do you realize what this'll cost my company?"
Smithers collapsed onto a vacant chair, his eyes wide in disbelief. "I—I—I'm ruined!"
Bowe stood over him, jabbing a finger savagely into Smithers's arm to accentuate each word. "If you aren't,
then I'll make sure you are. You'll be glad to get a job selling matches on street corners when I'm done with you!"
Straightening up, Bowe offered an arm to his daughter. "Maud, I'll talk to you back in London. Come on, girl,
or we'll miss the train!"
They turned to go and walked straight into the sergeant, whose voice was flat and official. "Mr. Percival Bowe
and Miss Maud Bowe, ah'd like ye tae come up tae the station house with me."
Mr. Bowe, who tried stepping to one side, flinched as the strong arm of the law captured his shoulder.
Sergeant Patterson whispered confidentially in his ear. "Now now, sir, don't want tae show ourselves up tae all
the folk around here, do we? You and the young lady come quietly, ah've got four of your employees in mah holding
cell on a vehicle theft charge. They're making all sorts of accusations against Bowe and company. Ah'm sure it's all
quite unsubstantiated, but Ah'd just like ye tae take a stroll up there and we'll sort it all out."
Mr. Mackay folded the scroll and handed it to the old seaman. Mrs. Winn linked arms with the solicitor. "Well,
seeing as all the business is done, let's go for lunch. Mrs. Evans has invited us all over to the Tea Shoppe for a
celebration!" Waving her gloves, the old lady called out to her young friends. "Come on, you three, bring Ned, too.
It's free ice cream today!"
Mr. Mackay straightened his cravat. "Just a moment, marm." He turned to the magistrate. "Excuse me, sir,
perhaps you'd like to join us."
Distancing himself from the company shareholders, the magistrate smiled his approval. "It would be a pleasure,
sir!"
46.
EVANS TEA SHOPPE PUT ON A WONDERFUL spread. Dai Evans pushed four tables close so the friends
could sit together. Blodwen brought tray after tray of sandwiches, tea, cakes, and ice cream, dismissing any offer of
payment.
"Look, you, 'tis the least we can do for the folk who saved our village. Indeed to goodness, put that money away.
Hoho, 'twas worth it just to see Obadiah Smithers's face. In the name of heavens, though, 'ow did you find those
deeds?"
Mr. Braithwaite scratched his wiry mop. "Deeds, you say, marm, well er, hmm, 'fraid I can't, er, enlighten you, I
was, er, er, asleep on Miz Winn's, er, sofa, yes. You tell her, er, er."
Amy put aside her ice cream and explained. "It's a long story, but we had a clue that led us to the old milestone
on Eastpath. I never knew milestones were that big, there was only a small part showing above ground!" Will
confirmed her statement. "Aye, the one an Eastpath is a disused old millstone, a great, flat, round, granite wheel, with
a hole through its middle. Well, me an' Jon had to dig it out, y'see. We dug a fair deep pit around that stone, though
we had t' get out pretty quick, because it began to shift. We were no sooner out than the stone toppled. It blocked the
hole completely! Good job young Ben had a bright idea."
The Labrador passed a thought from beneath the table to his master. "Tut tut, you had a bright idea?"
The boy's blue eyes twinkled as he slid a ham sandwich to his dog. "Sorry about that, pal, but it wasn't your idea,
either, as I recall. Didn't you say Delia suggested that we use her to move the stone?"
The big dog huffed a bit as he dealt with the sandwich. "Aye, but I was the only one who knew what she was
thinking. A very intelligent mare she is. Take my word!"
The dairyman farmer allowed Amy to continue with the tale.
"We passed a rope through the hole in the stone and threw it over a thick branch of the oak tree growing nearby.
Will harnessed the rope to Delia and she hoisted the stone clear. As the stone came up, we saw something sticking up
out of the hole. I thought it was an oak root at first. Mr. Mackay, tell them what it was!"
Brushing a crumb from his vest, the dapper lawyer allowed himself the briefest of smiles. "Ahem! It was the
arm-piece from a suit of armor. Mr. Braithwaite identified the object as being from about the mid-1300s. Who knows,
it could probably have belonged to Caran De Winn. We took it back to Mrs. Winn's house. The entire armpiece was
sealed with tar on the outside and tallow within. When Jon Preston cut it open, there was the deed, perfectly preserved.
A most timely and fortunate discovery, sir. The document states not only the title to ownership, but on the back, it
also has a map, marking the boundaries of lands granted to Caran De Winn quite clearly.
"So, you see, my friends, my client is the owner of quite a considerable area, of which Chapelvale village is
merely the center! Mark Milestone East, and an arrow pointing downward, that was all the clue we had to go on. But
our united efforts brought about its successful conclusion. Remarkable!"
The magistrate took Mrs. Winn's hand. "Remarkable indeed. Madam, may I be the first to congratulate you
upon your elevation to the squirearchy. You are, through the help of your friends, a very fortunate lady!"
The old lady blushed, fidgeting with her ecru linen gloves. "Why, thank you, sir. My late husband, Captain
Winn, always said that the price of true friends is above that of gold. I wish he had lived to see himself as Squire of
Chapelvale. He loved our village dearly, even though a great deal of his life was spent away from it, at sea. When
things get back to normal, I am going to do something he would have approved of. I will grant to all the people of
Chapelvale that piece of land which their home stands upon, house, shop, business, or farm. I can do that now that I
legally own all this land, can't I?"
The magistrate rose to leave. "You can indeed, marm!"
Dai Evans came hurrying in with a tray of drinks, elderberry wine, beer, and lemonade, which he began serving
to the party.
"Wait, sir, join us in a toast to our new squiress!"
Smiling, the magistrate raised his glass. "I'm not sure squiress is right, but whatever it is, I'm sure Mrs. Winn
will perform her duties admirably, with all of you as her friends!"
Will Drummond raised his glass. "Aye, that's the toast. Friends."
As the company clinked glasses they chorused together. "To friends!"
Celebrations at Evans Tea Shoppe, and throughout the village, went on into the mid-noon. Now every villager
was his or her own landlord, owning the actual ground their house or business stood upon. The square resounded to
the noise of
happy folk, who had occupied the marquee previously set up for those who had planned the destruction of
Chapelvale. Amy Somers was watching Blodwen Evans coaxing her brother to take on yet another portion of ice
cream, when she noticed that Ben and his dog had slipped away during the merrymaking.
She found them sitting in the alley together, enjoying a respite away from the bustle and noise indoors. The
dark-haired girl sat next to Ben, her back against the wall, noting how he and the dog were looking at each other.
"You two are talking together, I can tell."
Ben shrugged. "We're just exchanging a few thoughts, feeling happy for Miz Winn and the village. Old Ned
looks happy, doesn't he?"
Amy stroked beneath the black Labrador's chin. "Yes, he looks very happy indeed. I'll just sit here and be happy
with you both."
Mischief danced in Ben's blue eyes, as he sighed peacefully. "All you need for real happiness is the sun on your
face and a friend by your side."
The girl smiled fondly at him. "That's nice, but what about Ned?"
The strange boy smiled back at her. "Ned's the friend I was talking about."
She dived on him, pummeling away playfully. "Ooh, you rotter!"
Ben giggled helplessly. "Mercy please, I meant you, too!"
The dog threw a thought in. "Go on, m'girl, teach the cheeky young pup a lesson!"
47.
ONE MONTH LATER
SUMMER ROLLED ON TOWARD AUTUMN. One morning after breakfast, Ben and his dog accompanied
Winnie into the village on her weekly shopping trip. They sauntered into the square together, Ned slightly ahead,
carrying the woven cane basket in his jaws. Ben stared at the ground, scuffing the dusty cobbles. Winnie watched him
with some concern.
"What is it, Ben, you don't look too cheerful today Do you feel ill, is that it?"
The quiet boy flicked his hair aside and managed a smile. "Oh, I'll brighten up, I suppose. Didn't sleep too well
last night, that's all. I'm all right, really."
The old lady's hand caressed his cheek. "You're thinking of leaving, aren't you."
Ben took the basket from his dog's mouth and handed it to her. He could not explain the dreams that had been
haunting him for the past two nights. Booming waves, hissing surf, creaking rigging, and the, slap of wet sails against
taut ropes.
Vanderdecken's ranting voice and his mad eyes. In his dreams the angel's voice echoed clear again.
"When you hear the toll of a church bell, you must leave this place and travel on!"
The boy turned his clouded blue eyes away from the old lady. "You do your shopping, Miz Winn. I'll go over to
the almshouse and see how the new project's coming along."
She watched him walking across the square with Ned trotting alongside. A boy and his dog. A sudden sadness
descended on her, and she called after her strange friend.
"I'll see you at Evans Tea Shoppe for lunch, Ben."
Without turning, he waved his hand.
As Ben dropped his hand, his big, black dog licked it. "I know, you don't have to tell me, mate, we share the
same dreams, remember?"
Ben scratched the dog's ear gently. "Aye, we've left a lot of places behind in our travels, but this village and the
friends we've made here ... I tell you, it's going to be hard to leave Chapelvale."
Looking up, he saw Alex waving to them from the almshouse door.
Almost everybody was there. Amy threw an arm around Ben's shoulder, leading him into the building. Sheaves
of reconstruction blueprints were laid out on the table. Jon, Will, Mr. Braithwaite, and Mr. Mackay were studying
them. Amy coughed, waving her hand at the dust that was floating about. She called to Regina and her friends. "Stop
that sweeping for a moment, please. Could you start carrying those benches outside?"
Her brother wrinkled his nose. "Oh, all right, bossy boots. Come on, Regina, Tommo, let's take this big one
between us."
The old seaman took a pencil from behind his ear and made a minor adjustment to one of the blueprints. "There,
we can extend the evening tea garden out into the old graveyard at the rear."
Ben raised his eyebrows. "Evening tea garden?"
The girl nodded. "Wonderful idea, isn't it? Dai and Blod-wen Evans are employing Hetty Sullivan to run the tea
garden five evenings a week, after the Tea Shoppe closes in the late afternoon. They'll be supplying her with the
materials, of course. Hetty's delighted with her new job. Show him the other plans, Curator Preston."
The old ship's carpenter assumed a mock dignified attitude. "Ahem, that's my new title, y'know, Curator Preston,
of the Preston-Braithwaite Collection. I'm going to be Caretaker Handyman, too. Good, isn't it, I never had that many
high-flown titles in my sailin' days. Mrs. Winn wants the old almshouse to be part of our village life, not an old ruin
molder-ing away unused at the corner of the square. Apart from rethatching the roof, and the addition of a window or
two, the outside'll look pretty much the same, nice an' quaint.
"But inside there'll be the collection, the cross, chalice, candlesticks, and deeds, all in display cases, together
with the story of how Chapelvale was saved. We all get a mention in it, even good old Ned. Then there's the evenin'
tea garden and an extra room inside for any village meetings, dances, young people's events. We're even gettin' a
small library—Mr. Braith-waite will be in charge of that. A proper little village hall for everyone to use, eh, lad!"
The boy shook his friend's big, tattooed hand heartily. "Sounds wonderful, mate. When will all the rebuilding
work start?"
Mr. Mackay interrupted. The dapper little lawyer was positively beaming. "First thing Monday morning, m'boy!
My friend the magistrate and I visited the firm of Jackman Donning and Bowe in London last week. We came to an
amicable agreement with them. This morning I received by special post a check for a considerable amount. Together
with the express wish that the name of Jackman Donning and Bowe never be associated with past events in
Chapelvale and the hope that all will be forgotten."
Mr. Mackay actually performed a small dance of triumph as he pulled forth the check and waved it over his
head. "Sufficient funds for our almshouse restoration fund. The workmen arrive with materials on Monday morning,
eight o'clock sharp!"
Mr. Braithwaite looked up from a list of new books he was studying. "Quite, er, very good, very, er, er, good.
Yes!"
Will Drummond picked a crowbar from a wheelbarrow of tools he had brought from the farmhouse. "Aye, lad,
meanwhile 'tis our job to clear all the rubbish from this almshouse an' make it ready. Here y'are, Curator Preston, the
crowbar you asked for, sir!"
Jon hefted the long curved iron, moving to the center of the room.
His blue eyes twinkled as he winked at Ben.
"You can lend a hand later, shipmate, but first there's something I've got to do, just to satisfy my own curiosity."
The boy gave his friend a puzzled look. "Of course I'll help, but what's the crowbar for?"
The old seaman looked up at the ceiling. It was cracked, damp-stained, and bellied. "Ever since I first docked at
this almshouse I've wondered what that big, ugly hump atop of the roof could be. I ain't going to let no team o' strange
workmen find out afore I do. So cover your eyes an' mouths, every-body. There's goin' to be a load of old dust an'
rubbish an' whitewash comin' down.
"Stand clear now, pals. Here goes!"
Whump! Bump
! Thud!
A mess of dried rushes, twigs, old plaster, and limewash showered down. Ben and the others shielded their eyes
and nose. Jon shaded both eyes with a hand as he battered furiously at the growing gap in the ceiling.
Crack! Whump! Thud! Whack!
He stopped a moment and stared into the huge, dark cavity he had made. "Push that table over here, quick!"
Suddenly Ben knew. He grabbed Ned's collar and hurried outside. The black Labrador sensed it, too. They
began running to get as far away from the almshouse as possible, both knowing that they would not outdistance the
sound of inevitable fate.
The ground beneath Ben seemed to sway, like the deck of the Flying Dutchman, and cold sweat broke out on
his face, like seaspray. The distant hiss of escaping steam from a train pulling into the station sounded as if it were the
gales off the coast of Tierra del Fuego, so long ago, so far away.
"Leave this place, do not stay to watch your friends grow old and die one by one, while you are still young. You
must go!" At the sound of the angel's voice, the dog increased his speed, pulling at his master's hand on his collar,
dragging Ben along with him.
Jon stood on the table. He had not noticed Ben and his dog going; amid the curtain of dust and falling rubbish,
neither had the others. Will climbed up alongside the old ship's carpenter, holding up a lighted lantern. "What is it?
What's up there, Jon?"
"It's a bell, Will! That's what the hump was, a little bell tower. Our new village center will have a bell! Listen!"
The old seaman swung the crowbar and struck the inside of the bell. Booonnnnggggg! The sound of the bell boomed
out over Chapelvale.
As the brazen echoes reverberated far and near, a baby cried.
Eileen popped her head through the back window of the almshouse, looking none too pleased. "Stop that noise
this instant! I just got little Willum nicely to sleep out 'ere, now you gone an' wakened 'im, poor mite."
The old man lowered the crowbar sheepishly, stating his excuse. "But, marm, that's the first time the bell's
sounded in nigh on three hundred years!"
Eileen stood with her hands on her hips. "Oh is it now, well, let it be the last for the moment. Get down from
that table, Will Drummond, an' you, too, Jon Preston. Standin' up there like two naughty children, covered in dust an'
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