pe somethin' on fire, Tonal'," said the groom, dropping the
harness-brush and running out to the yard.

Donald being of the same opinion, followed him. At the same moment a
piercing shriek was heard to issue from the house and wild confusion
followed.

"Fire! fire!" yelled a voice in the yard outside, with that intensity of
meaning which is born of thorough conviction.

Who that has never been roused by "fire!" can imagine the sensations
that the cry evokes, and who that really has experienced those
sensations can hope to explain them to the inexperienced? We cannot.
We will not try.

But let us not plunge with undue haste into a fire!

It will be remembered that we left Jackman in Barret's room, having just
ended his elephant story, to the satisfaction of his friends, while Mrs
Gordon was on her way to the nursery, bent on investigation. Well, the
voice that shrieked in the nursery was that of Mrs Gordon, and that
which yelled in the yard was the voice of the groom, supplemented by
Donald's treble.

Of course the gentlemen sprang to their feet, on hearing the uproar,
dashed from the room in a body, and made straight for the nursery. On
the way they met Mrs Gordon with Flo in her arms--all safe; not a hair
of her pretty little head singed, but looking rather appalled by the
consequences of what she had done.

"Safe! thank God!" exclaimed the laird, turning and descending with his
wife and child, with some vague thoughts that he might be likely to find
Mrs Moss in her favourite place of resort, the library.

He was right. He found her there in a dead faint on the floor. He also
found his three boys there, exerting themselves desperately to haul her
out of the room by a foot and an arm and the skirt of her dress.

"We knew she was here, daddy," gasped Eddie, "and came straight to help
her."

"Out o' the way!" cried the laird as he grasped Mrs Moss in his arms
and bore her away. "Mother and Flo are safe, boys. Look out for
yourselves."

"I'll go for the photographs! Come, help me, Ted," cried Archie, as he
ran up the now smoking stairs.

"I'll go for Milly!" cried the heroic Junkie, as, with flashing eyes, he
dashed towards her room.

But Barret had gone for Milly before him! and without success. She was
not in her room. "Milly! Milly!" he shouted, in tones of undisguised
anxiety, as he burst out of the nursery, after finding, with his
companions, that no one was there and that suffocation was