“Did you hear whose house was burned, Willie?”
“A Mr Oberly, or somethin’ like that.”
“Auberly!” exclaimed the widow, with a start.
“Well, p’raps it is Auberly; but whichever it is, he’s got a pretty kettle o’ fish to look after this mornin’. You seem to have heard of him before, mother?”
“Yes, Willie, I—I know him a— at least I have met with him often. You see I was better off once, and used to mingle with— but I need not trouble you with that. On the strength of our former acquaintance, I thought I would write and ask him to get you a situation in an office, and I have got a letter from him, just before you came down to breakfast, saying that he will do what he can, and bidding me send you to him between eleven and twelve to-morrow.”
“Whew!” whistled Willie, “an’ he burnt out o’ house and home, without a coat to his back or a shoe to his foot. It strikes me I’ll have to try to get him a situation.”
“He won’t be found at the house, now, I dare say, my son, so we’ll have to wait a little; but the burning of his house and furniture won’t affect him much, for he’s rich.”
“Humph! p’raps not,” said Willie; “but the burnin’ of his little girl might have—”
“You said that no lives were lost,” cried Mrs Willders, turning pale.
“No more there was, mother; but if it hadn’t bin for one o’ the firemen that jumped in at a blazin’ winder an’ brought her out through fire an’ smoke, she’d have bin a cinder by this time, an’ money wouldn’t have bought the rich man another daughter, I know.”