"It was a cigarette," murmured Theodore; "but I will never touch another!"
Mrs. Barton thought it wisest to let the subject drop for the time, meaning to talk seriously to her little stepson when Jack was not present. The boys watched the burning hay-rick for some minutes in silence, but at last Theodore exclaimed excitedly, "Oh, I must go and see the fire-engine at work!"
"No, my dear, you cannot," Mrs. Barton answered. "Your father said that on no account were you to leave the house."
"I suppose he is very angry," Theodore sighed.
"Never mind," whispered Jack. "At least—I mean you won't smoke again, will you?"
"Never!" was the fervent response, in accents of conviction. "I do wonder, Jack, how the rick caught on fire; it was all right this—"
Theodore paused abruptly, ashamed to acknowledge he had rested in the shade of the hay-rick to smoke that unlucky cigarette.
Meanwhile, the fire-engine from the neighbouring town was playing on the flames; but though there was plenty of water, the efforts of the willing helpers were of little avail, for there was a stiff breeze blowing, which fanned the fire, so that when night fell there was very little hay that was not thoroughly spoiled.
"'Tis a bad job," said old John Bawdon, as he walked back to the Hall by his master's side.
"It is indeed, John, especially as the rick was not insured. I cannot imagine how it caught fire."