Donald sniffed, and replied that he did—“what-ë-ver.”
“It wull pe somethin’ on fire, Tonal’,” said the groom, dropping the harness-brush and running out to the yard.
Donald being of the same opinion, followed him. At the same moment a piercing shriek was heard to issue from the house and wild confusion followed.
“Fire! fire!” yelled a voice in the yard outside, with that intensity of meaning which is born of thorough conviction.
Who that has never been roused by “fire!” can imagine the sensations that the cry evokes, and who that really has experienced those sensations can hope to explain them to the inexperienced? We cannot. We will not try.
But let us not plunge with undue haste into a fire!
It will be remembered that we left Jackman in Barret’s room, having just ended his elephant story, to the satisfaction of his friends, while Mrs Gordon was on her way to the nursery, bent on investigation. Well, the voice that shrieked in the nursery was that of Mrs Gordon, and that which yelled in the yard was the voice of the groom, supplemented by Donald’s treble.
Of course the gentlemen sprang to their feet, on hearing the uproar, dashed from the room in a body, and made straight for the nursery. On the way they met Mrs Gordon with Flo in her arms—all safe; not a hair of her pretty little head singed, but looking rather appalled by the consequences of what she had done.
“Safe! thank God!” exclaimed the laird, turning and descending with his wife and child, with some vague thoughts that he might be likely to find Mrs Moss in her favourite place of resort, the library.
He was right. He found her there in a dead faint on the floor. He also found his three boys there, exerting themselves desperately to haul her out of the room by a foot and an arm and the skirt of her dress.