“But where is the burning thatch?” cried Vane.
“I dunno, sir,” said the gardener. “I arn’t even smelt fire yet.”
“Have they got the engine out?”
“No, sir. They arn’t got the keys yet. Well, did you make him hear?” continued Bruff, as half-a-dozen men came trotting down the street.
“Nay, we can’t wacken him nohow.”
“What, Chakes?” cried Vane.
“Ay; we’ve been after the keys.”
“But he must be up at the church,” said Vane. “It’s he who is ringing the bell.”
“Nay, he arn’t theer,” chorused several. “We went theer first, and doors is locked.”
By this time there was quite a little crowd in the street, whose components were, for the most part, asking each other where the fire was; and, to add to the confusion, several had brought their dogs, some of which barked at the incessant ringing of the big bell, while three took part in a quarrel, possibly induced by ill-temper consequent upon their having been roused from their beds.