t Blin said; and as she spoke, her poor old
"ornaments" chattered.

"Aunt Blin, you _shall_ come down, and take something hot, and go to
bed!" exclaimed Bel, peremptorily. "We can't stay here all night.
Mr. Sparrow will be back,--and everybody. I think the fire is going
down. It's pretty still now. We've seen it all. Come!"

They had never a thought, any of them, of more than a block or so,
burning. Of course the firemen would put it out. They always did.

"See! See!" cried the landlady. "O my sakes and sorrows!"

A huge, volcanic column of glittering sparks--of great flaming
fragments--shot up and soared broad and terrible into the deep sky.
A long, magnificent, shimmering, scintillant train--fire spangled
with fire--swept southward like the tail of a comet, that had at
last swooped down and wrapped the earth.

"The roofs have fallen in," said innocent old Miss Smalley.

"That will be the last. Now they will stop it," said Bel. "Come,
Auntie!"

And after midnight, for an hour or more, the house, with the five
women in it, hushed. Aunt Blin took some hot Jamaica ginger, and Bel
filled a jug with boiling water, wrapped it in flannel, and tucked
it into the bed at her feet. Then she gave her a spoonful of her
cough-mixture, took off her own clothes, and lay down.

Still the great fire roared, and put out the stars. Still the room
was red with the light of it. Aunt Blin fell asleep.

Bel lay and listened, and wondered. She would not move to get up and
look again, lest she should rouse her aunt. Suddenly, she heard the
boom of a great explosion. She started up.

Miss Smalley's voice sounded at the door.

"It's awful!" she whispered, through the keyhole, in a ghostly way.
"I thought you ought to know. The cinders are flying everywhere. I
heard an engine come up from the railroad. People are running along
the streets, and teams are going, and everything,--_the other way_!
They're blowing up houses! There, don't you hear that?"

It was another sullen, heavy roar.

Bel sprang out of bed; hurried into her garments; opened the door to
Miss Smalley. They went and stood together in the entry-window.

"All Kingman's carriages are out; sick horses and all; they've
trundled wheelbarrow loads of things down to the stable. There's a
heap of furniture dumped down in the middle of the place. Women are
going up Tremont Street with bundles and little children. Where _do_
you s'pose it's got to?"

"See there!" said Bel, po