"Who'll beat now, going upstairs?" screamed Nan.
Miss Blake made a dash for the first step and the two went flying up in a perfect whirl of laughter and fun.
Delia had forgotten to light the gas in Nan's room and the girl stumbled about blindly, crashing into the furniture and casting off her coat and hat in her old headlong fashion, not stopping to think of all Miss Blake's warnings on the subject, but just hurrying to get down stairs and "beat" the governess in another race.
"Clean hands! Smooth hair, and a neat dress for dinner!" sang out the governess gayly.
Nan shrugged her shoulders in the dark and made a lunge at the mantelpiece for a match. She struck it and lit the gas, swinging off to the washstand as soon as it was done.
Suddenly Miss Blake heard a shriek, a rush of feet across the floor, and then Nan's voice exclaiming "Great Scott!" in a tone that was a cross between a laugh and a cry.
She did not wait a moment but hurried instantly to the girl's door.
Nan was standing beside the gas fixture, and in her hand was her cherished hat—a ruined mass of smoldering felt and charred plumage.
"Nan!" exclaimed Miss Blake, horrified at the sight.
"I know it! Isn't it awful! I just slung it on the globe as I always do, and—and—when I lit the gas I forgot all about it, and it was ablaze in a minute. Don't say a word! I know you've told me hundreds of times not to put it there. But I forgot, and—O dear! what'll I wear on my head the rest of the winter? But it is too funny!"