Just here his little legs felt warm; and he backed off from the stove and whirled around to cool off a bit, to see the heap of papers and shavings on the floor, in the merriest little blaze imaginable, while one small tongue of flame reached out and licked his blouse.
Johnny gave one scream and rushed out; the little tongue of flame persisting in staying on his blouse, while the other little flames left behind in the old kitchen, every second growing big and strong, were having a jolly time of it.
“Fire!” screamed Johnny, leaving wide the “Provision Room” door as he bounded off across the lane.
Johnny whirled around to see the heap of papers and shavings on the floor in the merriest little blaze imaginable.
“Hillo!” cried Patsy, who came around the palings to look at him, but not hearing what he said as he rushed madly off for the terraces. “Oh, murther—murther!”
He cleared everything between Johnny and himself by one or two bounds, and soon had him rolling over and over on the grass. “Now, to make absolutely sure,” said Patsy at last, “I’m going to turn the hose on ye. Been building a bonfire somewheres, I s’pose.”
“There’s more of it in there,” said Johnny, and finding his voice to point a shaking finger in the direction of the little brown house.
“Where?”
“There.”