"I was asleep in a minute," said Alfred, "and I don't remember anything until I was pulled out of bed and told the house was on fire."
He held out his hand to Felix, for it was Felix who, after helping to rescue Lily and Old Wheels, had aroused Alfred to a sense of his danger. Felix responded cordially, and was sufficient of a casuist to be quietly pleased because a lucky chance had given him a claim upon Alfred's gratitude.
Voices asked where the fire had commenced.
"It must have broken out in the lower part of the house," said Old Wheels; "but it does not matter to us now. Thank God we're all saved, eh, Pollypod?"
Pollypod nodded her head a dozen times, and looked solemnly at Felix.
"You saved me," she said.
"Father saved you, Polly," replied Felix. "Didn't he make a rope and creep out of the window down it with Polly in his arms?"
"But you caught me!"
"Yes, I caught you, little one. It's like the story of Cock Robin, with a happier ending. Some one saw the fire--some one cried out--some one climbed up--some one crept down--some one caught Polly."
Which made Polly laugh. But her father looked grave, His strait was a hard one indeed. Every stick of furniture burnt, every scrap of spare clothing burnt, no money in his purse, and not insured for a shilling. Here was a fine example for theorists whose favourite theme is the improvidence of the poor!