That dreamy imagination passed away, and he became conscious that he was having his morning call, as he termed it, and for which he always prepared when going to bed by pulling up the blind and drawing aside the white curtains, so that the sun who called him should shine right in upon his face.
For the sun called Dick Winthorpe when he shone, and as the lad lay upon his side with his face toward the window the sun seemed to be doing his morning duty so well that Dick yawned, stretched, and lay with his eyes closed while the glow of red light flooded his room.
“Only seem to have just lain down,” he grumbled, keeping his eyes more tightly shut than ever. “Bother! I wish I wasn’t so drowsy when it’s time to get up!”
At last he opened his eyes, to stare hard at the light, and then with a cry full of excitement, he threw off the clothes and leaped out of bed, to rush to the window.
“Oh!” he ejaculated; and darting back to the bed-side he hurried on his trousers, opened his door, and the next moment his bare feet padded over the polished oak floor as he made for his father’s room and thumped at the door.
“Father, quick!—father!”
“Hallo! Any one ill?” cried the squire, for thieves and burglars were known only by repute out there in the fen.
“Tallington’s farm’s in a blaze!” cried Dick, hoarsely.
He heard a thump on the floor, a hasty ejaculation from his mother, and then ran back to his own room to finish dressing, gazing out of his window the while, to see that the bright glow about Grimsey was increasing, and that a golden cloud seemed to be slowly rising up through the still air.
“Now, Dick!” shouted his father, “run down and rouse up the people at the cottages.”