driving rain from the northeast always gets the better of the attic
window over the guest-room. There's something mysterious about that
window," he explained. "It opens like a door; I believe they call it a
'casement' window, and in such a storm as this I have to keep sopping
up the water that blows in. I had a carpenter look at it, but he said
it couldn't be fixed without making a new one or fastening it up so it
couldn't be opened at all. We don't have a northeast rain-storm very
often, and that's the only window that ever leaks--except the skylight
and the round one in the west gable which is hung at the top to swing
inward and couldn't be expected to hold water."

Jill found some towels, and they hurried to the attic to "sop up" the
rain that was driving under the sash and had already made its mark on
the ceiling below. Then they examined the skylight and the round
window, and just as they were about to descend perceived a smell of
burning wood. Jack rushed down to the sitting-room, telling Jill to fly
for a pail of water, found the wall beside the stove-pipe very hot, ran
for an axe, and, smashing a hole through the lath and plastering,
discovered a bit of wood furring to which the laths had been nailed
resting directly against the sheet iron pipe. Catching the pail of
water which Jill was about to pour into the stove, he cooled the hot
pipe and extinguished the wood about to burst into flame, the smoke of
which, rising beside the chimney to the attic, had warned them of the
danger below. He then cut away around the pipe till the solid brick
chimney was exposed, gathered up the rubbish, piling the chips upon the
fire in the stove, and lay back in his chair, evidently enjoying the
situation.

"How can you be so reckless, Jack, as to keep a fire in such a
chimney?"