however it had happened, the flames were running up her little
cotton dress.

Poor Baby Sally! Jimmie had never felt so helpless. Hardly
knowing why he did it, he dragged the wool quilt off Grandma's
bed and scooted across the floor in a flash. While Sally
screamed with fright, he wrapped the thick folds tightly around
her and hugged her close.


[Illustration: Jimmie saving Sally]


When the grown folks came from work, just ahead of the school
children, they found Jimmie and Sally white and shaky but safe.
The woolen quilt had smothered out the flames before Sally was
hurt at all; and Jimmie had only a pair of blistered hands.

"If I hadn't put a wool petticoat on her, and wool stockings,"
Grandma kept saying, while she sat and rocked the whimpering
baby. "And if our Jimmie hadn't been so smart as to think of the
bedclothes. . . .

"Not all children have been so lucky," Daddy said in a
shaky voice, crouching beside Grandma and touching Sally's downy
head.

"But I hadn't ought to have left her with poor Jimmie,"
Grandma mourned. "If only they had a Center, like at the bogs. I
don't believe I can bear it to stay here any longer after this.