“Run home indeed!” retorted Nancy indignantly. “Don’t you suppose we are going with you? We don’t see a fire every day. And if it’s Idlewild——”
“Is it Idlewild?” at the word Anne appeared, breathless, with Beverly behind her. They were both dressed, and both carried flash-lights. And they were both very much excited.
“Goodness!” muttered Hugh. “This is no time for Round Robins to be hopping around, in the middle of the night. I’m sorry, Anne. But you ought to be glad that Idlewild is empty, anyway.”
“Yes,” said she, “even the pets are gone. I want to go and see the last of it, if it is burning up.”
“Come along the road, then. It’s getting a little lighter, and there’s still some moon.” Hugh and Victor took the girls in charge and, hurried them as fast as they could toward the direction of the fire.
Poor, splendid Idlewild! It was a pitiful sight, as all fires are, when so much care and thought and labor and money go up in smoke. The whole sky was lit up with a red glare, and columns of smoke were pouring out of the roof of the house. Every little while there was a crash as a wall fell, and a leap of flame would follow. The little hand-engine from the Harbor was already there, and a band of stout men were ready to help hand the water-buckets. But the water-works at Idlewild were out of commission; the fire had caught in several places and had made too much headway already. There was scarcely anything that could be done, but try to prevent it from spreading to the woods.
A crowd had gathered to see the fire. People were constantly streaming up from the village in groups or singly, and they gossiped excitedly among themselves, commenting on the fire and on recent news. Victor and Hugh left the girls together near a group of women, and ran to help with the buckets.
“There’s Reddy!” cried Nancy, pointing. Dick was flying around in the smoke helping Captain Sackett and the other men remove the contents of some of the smaller buildings. For it looked as if the whole plant was doomed.
“The flames are coming out of my windows now!” said Anne to Beverly. “All my pretty rooms burned up! I shall never see them again.” But she did not feel as badly about it as she would have done two months ago, had she known what was to happen. “It seems like the end of everything,” she said. But Beverly answered:
“Oh no! Maybe it is only a beginning.” Beverly did not know just what she meant; but it sounded comforting. And Anne seemed to like the idea. A woman was speaking in a high voice just in front of her: