So Peggy made a half-hearted jump and landed in the fire. In a second her skirts were ablaze, and the silence of terror struck the girls dumb. Isabelle ran at Peggy and dragged her out, she threw her on the ground, tearing at her skirt with her bare hands.
“Pile sweaters on her!” she ordered the girls.
They obeyed, and Isabelle threw herself upon the smouldering heap, in an effort to quench the fire. Mr. Benjamin came upon them, and the girls explained in shrill unison. He lifted Isabelle off; picked Peggy up, half unconscious; cut away the still smoking skirt, and carried her into the house.
The girls followed, awed and weak from fright. They sat in silence in the living room awaiting the report from upstairs. Both the Benjamins were up there. There had been no serious damage done. The heavy wool shirt had protected her legs, but the shock had played havoc with poor Peggy’s nerves, and she screamed and cried long after she was rubbed, greased, bandaged, and comfortable.
When Mrs. Benjamin finally came downstairs to get some hot milk for her, she found the frightened girls still sitting there. She relieved their minds at once.
“How did it happen?” she inquired.
They explained how Isabelle jumped the blaze and urged timid Peggy to follow.
“Where is Isabelle?” demanded Mrs. Benjamin.
It appeared that nobody knew. In the excitement they had not noticed her absence. Should they go and look for her?
“No; I’ll find her. Agnes, go to the kitchen and get a glass of hot milk and take it to Peggy. The rest of you go to bed as quietly as possible. I will find Isabelle,” said Mrs. Benjamin.