"Ah! now, now I understand!" cried Mr Macmichael. "It's the old well of
the Priory you've come upon, you little burrowing mole."
"Sandy helped me out with the stones. I thought there might be a
treasure down there, and that set me digging. It was a funny treasure to
find--wasn't it? No treasure could have been prettier though."
"If this be the Prior's Well, and all be true they said about it in old
times," returned his father, "it may turn out a greater treasure than
you even hoped for, Willie. Why, as I found some time ago in an old book
about the monasteries of the country, people used to come from great
distances to drink the water of the Prior's Well, believing it a cure
for every disease under the sun. Run into the house and fetch me a jug."
"Yes, papa," said Willie, and bounded off.
There was no little brook careering through the garden now--only a few
pools here and there--and its channel would soon be dry in the hot sun.
But Willie thought how delightful it was to be able to have one there
whenever he pleased. And it might be a much bigger brook too, for,
instead of using the stone which could but partly block the water from
the underground way, he would cut a piece of wood large enough to cover
the opening, and rounded a little to fit the side of the well; then he
would put the big stone just so far from the opening that the piece of
wood could get through between it and the side of the well, and so be
held tight.
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