“Ted!” she screamed. “It’s a-fire! The kitchen! I see the blaze!”
“The meat!” yelled Ted, springing over the low counter and following his sister toward the smoke filling place.
“Oh-h-h-!” Nancy continued to yell. “What shall we do!”
“Don’t get excited,” ordered the stranger. “And don’t go near that blazing pan. Let me go in there,” and he brushed Nancy aside making his way into the untidy place, which now seemed, to the frightened girl, all in flames.
“The meat—gosh!” moaned poor Ted, for the stranger had opened the back door, and having grabbed the flaming pan with that same towel Nancy had tossed on the chair, he was now tossing the blazing pan as far out from the house as his best fling permitted.
“There!” he exclaimed, brushing one hand with the other. “I guess we’re safe now.”
“Oh, thank you, Mister, Mister—” Nancy waited for him to supply the name, but he only smiled broadly.
“Just call me Sam,” he said pleasantly.
“Sam?” echoed Ted.
“Yes, sonny. Isn’t that all right?” asked the stranger.