trodden down by the horses!"

"I CAN'T go!" she cried, clasping his arm, and fairly clinging to
it in her frenzy of excitement. "Oh stop the fire, quick, quick!
or my house will burn!"

"I have no time to put out your fires," he said, carelessly,
shaking loose from her hold and turning to meet a messenger with
news.

Poor little woman! What could she do? The wind was rising, and
the fire grew. Flame was creeping out in a little blue curl in a
new place, under the rafter's edge, AND NOBODY CARED. That was
what increased the pressing misery of it all. It was so unlike a
common country alarm, where everybody rushed up and down the
streets, crying "Fire! fire! f-i-r-e!" and went hurrying to and
fro for pails of water to help put it out. Until that moment the
little woman did not know how utterly deserted she was.

In very despair, she ran to her house, seized two pails, filled
them with greater haste than she had ever drawn water before,
and, regardless of Uncle John's imprecations, carried them forth,
one in either hand, the water dripping carelessly down the side
breadths of her fair silk gown, her silvery curls tossed and
tumbled in white confusion, her pleasant face aflame with
eagerness, and her clear eyes suffused with tears.

Thus equipped with facts and feeling, she once more appeared to
Major Pitcairn.