Mary Louise reached for the flashlight underneath her pillow. But she was calm now; she was sure of the identity of the intruder. It must be the crazy woman.
She flashed the light into the creature’s face, and the woman gasped in fear.
“Don’t harm me! Please!” she begged. “I’m the Lord’s messenger. To tell you that the Smith’s house is on fire. There are little children to be rescued. Go! Run! I’ll follow as soon as I can fill my pitcher.”
Jane and Mary Louise looked at each other in wonder. Was what she said the truth, or only a figment of her crazy brain?
But they did not dare take a chance. As the poor woman said, there were children at Smiths’ big house on the hill: three children, two boys and a little girl, with only servants to look after them. And servants, unlike parents, too often think of their own safety first.
“We’ll go right away, Rebecca,” Mary Louise assured her as she stepped into her pumps. “We’re all ready.”
Taking only their flashlight for protection, she and Jane ran off as fast as they could go, with Silky faithfully following them.
As soon as they had passed the ruins of Flicks’ Inn, they could see the smoke rising from the hill beyond. There could be no doubt about it. Rebecca was right: the Smiths’ house was on fire.
The girls redoubled their pace and tore up the hill. As they came nearer they saw the flames and heard wild shouts of excitement. Then they met the Smith boys and several of the servants racing madly about.
“How did it start?” demanded Mary Louise breathlessly as she almost bumped into Robby Smith.