“Oh,” screamed Nancy. “It’s that old chimney—”
“It’s something else,” exclaimed Ted. “Just look here! A 'busted’ water pipe. That’s what it is! Look—at—the—flood!”
They all looked, and saw, issuing from a pipe that was connected near the fireplace, a very positive and very menacing stream of water.
“Oh, my! Our things!” groaned Nancy. “I’ve got to turn the water off.”
“But where? How?” asked Mrs. Brandon in confusion, fully realizing the damage water could do.
“I know,” replied Nancy, in her best business-like manner. “I was 'monkeying’ with it the other day. It won’t take me a jiffy,” and while the others patted the intelligent Nero for his alarm, Nancy flew to the kitchen, got a wrench from Ted’s tool chest in the little corner closet, and then with one sure, swift turn, reversed the handle on the water pipe that led from the boiler to the pipes from the cellar.
“It’s off,” yelled Ted. “That’s all right, Nan, it’s stopped.”
“Why, daughter,” exclaimed Mrs. Brandon, still breathless, “how did you know how to do—that?”
“Because—she’s a good plumber,” declared Ted. “Hurrah! Nan! Let’s start a plumbing shop! That’s something you—haven’t tried yet.”
“Ted!” said Nancy sharply. “I don’t like being made fun of. Anybody ought to know how to turn off a water pipe. We all know how to turn off the gas, don’t we?”