am to my father and brother, who
are in town," she endeavored to explain.

"If it is necessary," said the chief engineer, "you might send it down
in one of the hackney carriages. I see a number standing before the
door. We'd better begin to move the heavier furniture, and some of you
women might fill the carriages with smaller things."

Mrs. Peterkin was ready to fall into hysterics. She controlled herself
with a supreme power, and hastened to touch another knob.

Elizabeth Eliza corrected her telegram, and decided to take the advice
of the chief engineer and went to the door to give her message to one
of the hackmen, when she saw a telegraph boy appear. Her mother had
touched the right knob. It was the fourth from the beginning; but the
beginning was at the other end!

[Illustration]

She went out to meet the boy, when, to her joy, she saw behind him her
father and Agamemnon. She clutched her telegram, and hurried toward
them.

Mr. Peterkin was bewildered. Was the house on fire? If so, where were
the flames?

He saw the row of carriages. Was there a funeral, or a wedding? Who
was dead? Who was to be married?

He seized the telegram that Elizabeth Eliza reached to him, and read
it aloud.

"Come to us directly--the house is NOT on fire!"

The chief engineer was standing on the steps.

"The house not on fire!" he exclaimed. "What are we all summoned for?"

"It is a mistake," cried Elizabeth Eliza, wringing her hands. "We
touched the wrong knob; we wanted the telegraph boy!"

"We touched all the wrong knobs," exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin, from the
house.

The chief engineer turned directly to give counter-directions, with a
few exclamations of disgust, as the bells of distant fire-engines were
heard approaching.

Solomon John appeared at this moment, and proposed taking one of the
carriages, and going for a doctor for his mother, for she was now
nearly ready to fall into hysterics, and Agamemnon thought to send a
telegram down by the boy, for the evening papers, to announce that the
Peterkins' house had not been on fire.

The crisis of the commotion had reached its height. The beds of
flowers, bordered with dark-colored leaves, were trodden down by the
feet of the crowd that had assembled.

The chief engineer grew more and more indignant, as he sent his men to
order back the fire-engines from the neighboring towns. The collection
of boys followed the procession as it went away. The fire-brigade
hastily r