Not until he had entirely covered that line of flame, and had danced to and fro over the rugs to stamp out the last spark of fire, did he venture to open the outside door, and it was high time, for the pungent smoke filled the kitchen until it was exceedingly difficult to breathe.
The little woman remained upon the floor where Seth had first found her, and it was only after the night breeze was blowing through the room, carrying off the stifling vapor, that the boy had time to wonder why she made no effort to rise.
“Are you hurt?” he cried anxiously, running to her side.
“Never mind me until the fire is out.”
“There is no more fire, an’ I’m bound to mind you! Are you hurt?”
“It doesn’t seem possible, my dear, an’ yet I can’t use either ankle or wrist. Of course the bones are not broken; but old people like me don’t fall harmlessly as do children.”
Seth was more alarmed now than when he saw the flames of the burning oil threatening the destruction of the building, and he dumbly wondered why Gladys did not make her appearance.
The first excitement was over, and now he had time in which to be frightened.
“What can I do? Oh, what can I do?” he cried, running to and fro, and then, hardly aware of his movements, he shouted loudly for Gladys.
“Don’t waken her!” Aunt Hannah cried warningly. “If you can’t help me there is nothing she can do.”