“Now, run!” cried Miss Pike, the moment the last child was in the entry, “run and tell everybody the schoolhouse is on fire!”
She had a pail of water in her hand. The children rushed through the streets screaming; the bells began to ring; the Hilltop fire-engine came out; and all the people and horses and dogs in the village. But Miss Pike was the first to pour water on the flames, and everybody said it was she who saved the schoolhouse.
There was a black hole in the wall, and another in the roof; the books were, many of them, soaked and ruined; the floor an inch deep with water, and it would take a whole week to set things to rights. But the schoolhouse was saved.
“Why, how did it take fire?” asked Uncle Ben, who had been out of town and did not come back till all was over.
The boys looked another way, the twin cousins hung their heads. Aunt Charlotte did not answer. She was wondering which child would speak first.
It was Flaxie Frizzle. Her face was very pale, and her eyes were fixed on the carpet.
“We’ve got something orful to tell you,” said she, her voice trembling; “we baked our biscuits, and Johnny built a house out there with a stove-pipe in, and we oughtn’t to taken any matches. You better believe we cried!”
“Well, well, you young rogues; so you set the schoolhouse afire? And who saved it?”
“Miss Pike!” broke forth all the children in chorus.
“Yes,” said Johnny; “but she marched us all out first, so the little ones wouldn’t get burnt. Never said a word about the fire till we got out!”