But there was no sign of Tommy.
Farther up the road were shops and stores and the grange hall. Tommy might be playing there. Or possibly in the school yard or along the road that went up Lookoff Mountain. The air was misty and smelled queer but Muffs wouldn’t let herself think of fires any more. Tommy was lost and it was partly her fault that Mary looked so serious and Mrs. Tyler so worried.
Then they came in sight of the tailor shop, or what had been the tailor shop. The queer, crooked smokestack wasn’t there any more and the roof had a gaping hole right through the shingles. Just about all the children in the valley were crowded around and among them was Tommy.
“I saw you!” he cried, and came running toward them. “Where were you going?”
“Looking for you,” his mother answered. “Tommy! Tommy! What happened to you?”
“I was watching the fire.”
“The fire! What fire?”
“The tailor shop fire. I turned in the alarm,” said the little boy proudly.
Muffs was speechless except for one excited squeal. Things were growing queerer and queerer. Here she had told a story that she thought was true and just when she remembered that it was only a story, up bobs Tommy saying that he has been to see a fire after all.
Mrs. Tyler drew him closer to her. “You brave boy!” she said. “Tell me how you knew.”