“You can. I'm going to fish,” said Peter briefly.
“I thought we came up here to talk about Perks's birthday,” said Phyllis.
“Perks's birthday'll keep.”
So they got down on the towing-path again and Peter fished. He did not catch anything.
It was almost quite dark, the girls were getting tired, and as Bobbie said, it was past bedtime, when suddenly Phyllis cried, “What's that?”
And she pointed to the canal boat. Smoke was coming from the chimney of the cabin, had indeed been curling softly into the soft evening air all the time—but now other wreaths of smoke were rising, and these were from the cabin door.
“It's on fire—that's all,” said Peter, calmly. “Serve him right.”
“Oh—how CAN you?” cried Phyllis. “Think of the poor dear dog.”
“The BABY!” screamed Bobbie.
In an instant all three made for the barge.