No need to ask now. Smoke was coming out of the little brown house “Provision Room” door. Patsy yelled “Fire!” as loud as he could scream, and dashed down to it. In less time than it takes to tell it, every man on the place was busy, working with a will to save the little brown house. The big mansion was deserted of all. Even Candace forgot her misery and desolation, to waddle as fast as she could to the scene, wringing her hands and crying as she went.
CHAPTER XXVII.
PHRONSIE’S MARRIAGE BELLS!
OH, the dear, precious little brown house!
How they worked—every man, woman, and child on the place—to save it! There was no time for the fire-department down in the village to get there, although the private alarm from “The Oaks” was sounded. What was to be done, must be done quickly; and everybody took hold and did the thing that seemed nearest and best.
Mrs. Higby passed pails of water as rapidly as if her hands and feet were young; preferring the old-fashioned ways of putting out a fire to the long lines of hose that the stable-men soon had in and around the little brown house. Candace, who immediately found that when she could work for her “bressed folks” she wasn’t lonely, waddled in and out, carrying everything she could lay her hands on, out to the grass in safety, despite the fact that she was invited several times by the workers who didn’t know her, to “get out of the way.”
“Git out ob de way, you’d tell me, pore w’ite trash, you!” Candace would mutter to herself at such times, smothering her wrath as best she could till she was sure the little brown house was safe; then she would teach these servants, one and all, that she was “a relict,” and had lived with Mr. King’s folks long before they were born. “Tink dey kin teach me,” fumed Candace under her turban, waddling on fiercely.
And after the last vestige of the dreadful flame was out, and the smoke cleared away, it was found that nothing was burned that would bring sorrow to one of the “Five Little Peppers.”
Mamsie’s rocking-chair, in which she used to sit in the old days, sewing the coats and sacks to keep the wolf from the door, was carried out, the little old cushion blazing at one end; but quick hands had beaten out the fire, so this was saved. And though the fire had run along the trail of shavings and paper dropped from Johnny’s armful, as he carried it in from the “Provision Room,” strange to say, beyond making dreadful black marks on the old kitchen floor to show its progress, and the scorching of the cupboard door, no damage was done. And then everybody drew a long breath, and stopped working, to gaze into each other’s faces; for the little brown house was safe!
And just then up clattered the village fire-department, and right back of them appeared Alexia, who, coming out of the post-office to drive to “The Oaks,” when told the news, made her pony run at top speed, so that she reached the scene almost at the same moment.
Patsy, who always ran to Mrs. Dodge’s aid, saw her first, and tore across the lawn, to catch the reins as she flung them to him.