XX
FIRE! FIRE!
The whole countryside was dry. It hadn't rained for weeks. The grass was turning brown. The water in the river was low. And Broad Brook was no more than a narrow trickle. Every morning the sun rose streaming hot, to beat down upon Pleasant Valley all day long until it sank—a round, red ball—behind Blue Mountain each night.
At last, one afternoon, Farmer Green and the hired man started for the woods on a run. They had seen a wisp of smoke curling up from the tree tops. And they knew that the woods were on fire.
There was a high wind that day. And if they hadn't worked lively there's no telling how far the fire would have spread. As it was, glowing bits came sailing down from the hill and settled in the valley. But luckily they did no damage. At least, no other fire had started anywhere when the men came home from the woods and said that all was safe again.
Some of the small folk that lived in the fields knew what was going on. But Mrs. Ladybug never guessed that there had been a fire. She was so busy, working among the apple trees, that she hadn't noticed any unusual stir. And no one took the trouble to tell her about it.
Everyone had put thoughts of fire out of his mind when along toward evening a loud clanging rang out upon the air.
"What's that?" people asked one another.
And all at once somebody shouted, "It's Mrs. Ladybug's dinner bell!"
Far and wide through orchard, garden and meadow the neighbors took up the cry. "Fire! Fire! Mrs. Ladybug's ringing the alarm! Her house is on fire!"
Back and forth they hurried, trying to find Mrs. Ladybug.