The alarm spread in an instant. Farmer Tallington’s window was thrown open; and as he realised all, he dashed back, and then the rest of the party came panting up, and Hickathrift cried, “Stand clear, Mester Dick!”
He threw himself against the door, to burst it open, just as the farmer came down, half carrying his wife wrapped in a blanket, and Tom ran out, to dart down to the end of the long low building where a second tenement formed the sleeping-place of the two men and a big lad who worked upon the farm.
They were already aroused, and came out hurrying on their clothes, while the squire and Hickathrift got out the women, who, with Mrs Tallington, were hurried into a cart-shed.
“Why, neighbour, you’d have been burned in your bed!” cried the squire. “Now, lads, all of you form line.”
“She’s caught now!” shouted Hickathrift, who had been round to the back.
“Then we must put it out,” said the squire, as he busily ranged his men, and those of Farmer Tallington, so that they reached from the nearest point of the big drain to the corner of the farm, and in a double line, so that full buckets of water could be passed along one and returned empty along the other.
“Hickathrift, you go and dip.”
“Ay, ay, squire!” roared the great fellow, and he rushed down to the water’s edge like a bull, while the squire went to the other end.
“Neighbour,” cried Farmer Tallington excitedly, “you’ll go on, wean’t you? I must get in and bring out a few writings and things I’d like to save.”
“Here, Tom, let’s you and me get out the clothes and things.”