"I daresay your landlord will rebuild the cottage, for no doubt it is insured."
"What's the good of a cottage without furniture?" Josiah demanded almost fiercely. "Salome's homeless, an' through me. I ought to be thrashed."
"Salome can bide with my missus," Silas Moyle interposed at that point. "She's a handy maid, and can make herself useful, an' you'll be able to get a lodging somewhere, Josiah, for the time; but you'd best come along with me now, an' get a bit of breakfast."
Josiah hesitated. He was very grateful to the baker for his kindness, but he dreaded the meeting with Salome. He felt more ashamed of himself than he had ever done in his life before, and as he turned his back on the smoking ruins, he pictured the pretty, thatched cottage of which he had been so proud once upon a time. There he had brought his young bride, there Salome had been born, and his happy married life had been spent, and there his wife had died. Josiah rubbed his hard, brown hand across his eyes as memory was busy with him.
"Come," said Silas, "pull yourself together, man. Let's go and get some breakfast. Your little maid's wanting you, I'll warrant."
Such proved to be the case. For the minute Salome saw her father, she threw herself into his arms, and whispered how thankful she was that he was safe, and that nothing mattered besides—nothing.
The first person to convey the news of the fire to Greystone was the postman, and great was the excitement when it became known that the Pethericks' cottage had been burnt down. Mr. Fowler started off immediately, with Gerald, to learn all particulars, and, in the afternoon, Mrs. Fowler, at Margaret's earnest request, went to see Salome. She found the little girl in better spirits than she had anticipated, though her brown eyes grew very wistful when she talked of her late home.
"All my plants are trampled into the ground," she said, "but, never mind, father's safe, and that's the chief thing. I was so afraid for him."
"And so you are to remain here?" Mrs. Fowler questioned, glancing around Mrs. Moyle's little parlour, which was a picture of neatness and cleanliness.
"Yes, ma'am, for the time. Mrs. Moyle has kindly asked me to stay."