egan to ring; the Hilltop fire-engine came
out; and all the people and horses and dogs in the village. But Miss
Pike was the first to pour water on the flames, and everybody said it
was she who saved the schoolhouse.

There was a black hole in the wall, and another in the roof; the books
were, many of them, soaked and ruined; the floor an inch deep with
water, and it would take a whole week to set things to rights. But the
schoolhouse was saved.

"Why, how did it take fire?" asked Uncle Ben, who had been out of town
and did not come back till all was over.

The boys looked another way, the twin cousins hung their heads. Aunt
Charlotte did not answer. She was wondering which child would speak
first.

It was Flaxie Frizzle. Her face was very pale, and her eyes were fixed
on the carpet.

"We've got something _orful_ to tell you," said she, her voice
trembling; "we baked our biscuits, and Johnny built a house out there
with a stove-pipe in, and we oughtn't to taken any matches. You better
believe we cried!"

"Well, well, you young rogues; so _you_ set the schoolhouse afire? And
who saved it?"

"Miss Pike!" broke forth all the children in chorus.

"Yes," said Johnny; "but she marched us all out first, so the little
ones wouldn't get burnt. Never said a word about the fire till we got
out!"

"She always does things just right. She's one of God's girls," cried
Freddy.

"Yes," broke in Flaxie, strongly excited; "I don't care if I can't see
her soul. I've seen it shine! Oh, it's beautiful to be homely!"

Nobody smiled--they all thought Flaxie was right.

"Yes, it is beautiful to be homely in just Miss Pike's way," said Aunt
Charlotte.

And then they went out to supper, and, as the twin cousins looked
broken-hearted, nothing more was said about the house that Jack built.

"Oh, Flaxie, _do_ you s'pose we've suffered enough?" asked little Milly
that night after they had said their prayers and were lying in bed
looking at the pure soft moonlight which shone on the far-away hills.

"I don' know. I feel as if I had a pain, don't you? Oh dear!"

"Yes, that's just the way I feel; a pain way in deep," replied Milly,
heaving a sorrowful sigh. "And I ought to, I'm glad of it."

"Glad, Milly Allen? How queer! Why, _I_ don't like to feel bad!"

"I don't either," said Milly, sitting up in bed and speaking very
earnestly. "But don't you 'member what Auntie Prim said that time we ran
away from the party? She said childre