Everybody was very busy, and the big chimney blazed and rumbled
unnoticed till the cloud of smoke caught Ben's eye as he festooned his
last effort in the flag line, part of an old sheet with the words
"Father has come!" in red cambric letters, half a foot long, sewed upon
it.
"Hullo, I do believe they've got up a bonfire without asking my leave!
Miss Celia never would let us, because the sheds and roofs are so old
and dry; I must see about it. Catch me, Daddy, I'm coming down!" cried
Ben, dropping out of the elm with no more thought of where he might
alight than a squirrel swinging from bough to bough.
His father caught him, and followed in haste as his nimble-footed son
raced up the avenue, to stop in the gate-way, frightened at the prospect
before him, for falling sparks had already kindled the roof here and
there, and the chimney smoked and roared like a small volcano, while
Katy's wails and Ronda's cries for water came from within.
"Up there, with wet blankets, while I get out the hose!" cried Mr.
Brown, as he saw at a glance what the danger was.
Ben vanished, and, before his father got the garden hose rigged, he was
on the roof with a dripping blanket over the worst spot. Mrs. Moss had
her wits about her in a minute, and ran to put in the fire-board and
stop the draught. Then, stationing Ronda to watch that the falling
cinders did no harm inside, she hurried off to help Mr.
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