“Why, then,” replied her father, “of course you cannot do any thing.”
“But I mean, father, suppose there is only a very little time—not enough to think in.”
“Why, if there is ever so little time,” said her father in reply, “it would be better to use a part of it in considering. If the house is on fire, the first thing is to consider well what to do.”
“Why, I should run and cry fire,” said Jenny.
“But that might not be best,” said her father. “You might be in such a place that nobody would hear you, if you did cry fire. Or, if you should examine the fire, you might find that you could put it out yourself, very easily, with a pail of water; and in that case it would not be wise to alarm the people out of doors.”
“Then,” said Jenny, “the first thing I should do would be to run and get a pail of water.”
“That might not be best,” said her father; “for perhaps the fire would have advanced so far that you could not hope to put it out; and so it might be wisest for you to go get some valuable papers and carry out, or a child asleep in a cradle.
“So you see,” continued her father, “the best thing that you could do would be to pause and consider what to do. I heard a doctor say once that, if he had but five minutes to save a man’s life in, he should take two of them to consider what to do.”
Jenny wanted to drive a little. The horse was a very spirited, but yet a very kind and gentle horse, so that her father often used to let Jenny drive him. But it was rather cold this evening; and her father told her that he thought it would be better for her to sit still and keep her fingers warm.
When they arrived at the village, they drove up near to a post which stood between the house and the mill. The miller came to help the farmer take out the bag of wheat. And he said to the farmer, “You had better let your little girl go into the house and stay there while we are grinding.”