'No, sir; not except what Miss Clay said,' he replied.
Meanwhile Sarah was breathlessly hastening up the stairs, and telling George all that had happened.
'Why didn't you tell us before?' he demanded.
'Because we never imagined you didn't know. I thought every one in the town knew, and mother did try to telephone to you, but she couldn't make any one hear,' explained Sarah.
George groaned, but made no more reproaches, and soon they came out on the lookout.
The flames were still raging, though not so high. Evidently the petrol had burnt out; but not so the fire, alas!
'It will burn to the ground,' George remarked, as he stood there with glasses to his eyes. 'They are trying to save the west wing, but I doubt if they will.'
'Oh George, let me look! I never thought of using glasses! Why, you can see the people running about with buckets!' cried Sarah.
'It feels like a bit of myself gone; but you don't care, of course,' he remarked, as he reluctantly tore himself away to go down and tell his father.
'I do care. And, oh George, I'm awfully sorry for father! What will he do or say?' cried his sister.