"Now, I must go!" she cried. "Come out and see me harness up, Nursey."
It was swiftly and skilfully done, but still Nurse Sparrow shook her head.
"I don't like it!" she insisted. "'A horse shall be a vain thing for safety'—that's in Holy Writ."
"You are an obstinate old dear," said Elsie, good-humoredly. "Wait till you're ill some day, and I go for the doctor. Then you'll realize the advantage of practical education. What a queer smell of smoke there is, Nursey!" gathering up her reins.
"Yes; the woods has been on fire for quite a spell, back on the other side of Bald Top. You can smell the smoke most of the time. Seems to me it's stronger than usual, to-day."
"You don't think there is any danger of its coming this way, do you?"
"Oh, no!" contentedly. "I don't suppose it could come so far as this."
"But why not?" thought Elsie to herself, as she drove rapidly back. "If the wind were right for it, why shouldn't it come this way? Fires travel much farther than that on the prairies,—and they go very fast, too. I never did like having Nursey all alone by herself on that farm."
She reached home, to find things in unexpected confusion. Her father had been called away for the night by a telegram, and her mother—on this, of all days—had gone to bed, disabled with a bad headache. There was much to be done, and Elsie flung herself into the breach, and did it, too busy to think again of Nurse Sparrow and the fire, until, toward nightfall, she noted that the wind had changed, and was blowing straight from Bald Top, bringing with it an increase of smoke.
She ran out to consult the hired man before he went home for the night, and to ask if he thought there was any danger of the fire reaching the Long Woods. He "guessed" not.