“If it is necessary,” said the chief engineer, “you might send it down in one of the hackney carriages. I see a number standing before the door. We’d better begin to move the heavier furniture, and some of you women might fill the carriages with smaller things.”
Mrs. Peterkin was ready to fall into hysterics. She controlled herself with a supreme power, and hastened to touch another knob.
Elizabeth Eliza corrected her telegram, and decided to take the advice of the chief engineer and went to the door to give her message to one of the hackmen, when she saw a telegraph boy appear. Her mother had touched the right knob. It was the fourth from the beginning; but the beginning was at the other end!
She went out to meet the boy, when, to her joy, she saw behind him her father and Agamemnon. She clutched her telegram, and hurried toward them.
Mr. Peterkin was bewildered. Was the house on fire? If so, where were the flames?
He saw the row of carriages. Was there a funeral, or a wedding? Who was dead?
Who was to be married?
He seized the telegram that Elizabeth Eliza reached to him, and read it aloud.
“Come to us directly—the house is NOT on fire!”
The chief engineer was standing on the steps.