"Can't we have some mucilage?" asked Joel.
"Yes, indeed," said Mrs. Sterling. "Gibson, will you get——"
Boom, boom, clang, clang, clang! It was the fire-bell, loud and clear and strong. Down went all the scissors, and a whole litter of papers to the floor, and the magazines sprawled every way, as each boy sprang out of his chair.
"Gibson," said Mrs. Sterling faintly.
"Now, you boys," cried Gibson, hurrying in, her cap strings flying in her perturbation, "don't you know no better than to jump up like that?"
"Gibson—Gibson," said Mrs. Sterling reprovingly, but she laid her hand on her heart.
"It's a fire!" cried Joel, with very red cheeks, whirling around from the window where the mass of boys was pressed.
"Well, is that any reason why you should act so and scare the mistress to death?" said Gibson sharply.
"We didn't scare her," said Joel bluntly; "it was the fire."
"Well, we must go," declared little Porter Knapp, struggling out from the knot of boys, who, all bigger and stronger, were pinning him against the window most uncomfortably.