"Fox knows," Sally continued, defensively, "and you can't have wholly forgotten, Henrietta."
"Bosh, Sally!" said Henrietta again.
CHAPTER V[ToC]
IT was but a few steps from Henrietta's door to Sally's own. Sally, her ideas a little confused by that exclamation of Henrietta's and by what it implied, walked those few steps softly and had her hand upon the knob of her own door when she found herself sniffing and realized that she smelt smoke. It was a very faint smell and she hesitated, even then, and stood there in the dark hall, recalling the fires that had been left. There had been no wood fire.
She took her hand softly from the knob. "I believe I'll just look around," she told herself. "It's a terrible night for a fire. I hope nobody'll take me for a burglar."
She went downstairs quickly, taking no pains to be quiet. If she were not quiet, she thought, with an involuntary chuckle, Uncle John would not be likely to think she was the sort of person that had no business to be in the house at all. She looked into the back parlor. All was right there. Then she opened the door leading into the back hall. The smell of smoke was stronger. She glanced into the kitchen. The top of the range was red-hot, to be sure, but that was not unusual enough to excite surprise, and the great old chimney, with its brick oven and broad brick breast and the wide brick hearth reaching out well beyond the range were enough assurance. The smoke must come from the cellar.
The cellar door was in the back hall, just at Sally's hand as she stood. She opened it; and was almost stifled by the smoke that poured out. She gasped and shut the door again quickly, and ran and opened a kitchen window, fumbling a little at the fastening, and drew two or three long breaths of the crisp night air, thinking how cold it was. Then she opened the cellar door again, held her breath, and went down.