ound the cloth that had
covered the center table and a blazing lamp on the floor. It was the
work of an instant for my father to raise a window, wrap the lamp in the
table-cloth, and throw both into the street. This left the room in
darkness, and I don't think the cause of the accident occured to any of
us, till there rushed from under the sofa a little ball of fire that
flew round and round the room at a most astonishing pace.

"'Oh, my kitten! my kitten!' I screamed. 'She's burning to death! Catch
her! Catch her! Put her out! Throw cold water on her! Oh, my poor, poor
Dinah!' and I began a wild chase in the darkness, weeping and wailing as
I ran. The entire family joined in the pursuit. We tumbled over chairs
and footstools. We ran into each other, and I remember my brother
Charlie and I bumped our heads together with a dreadful crash, but I
think neither of us felt any pain. They called out to each other in the
most excited tones: 'Head her off there! Corner her! You've got her! No,
you haven't! There she goes! Catch her! Catch her!' while I kept up a
wailing accompaniment, 'Oh, my poor, precious Dinah! my burned up Dinah
Diamond,' etc.

"Well, my mother caught her at last in her apron and rolled her in the
hearth rug till every vestige of fire was extinguished and then laid her
in my lap.

"Don't laugh, Mollie," said tenderhearted Nellie Dimock--"please don't
laugh. I think it was dreadful. O Miss Ruth, was the poor little thing
dead?"

"No, indeed, Nellie; and, wonderful to relate, she was very little hurt.
We supposed her fine thick coat kept the fire from reaching her body,
for we could discover no burns. Her tongue was blistered where she had
lapped the flame, and in her wild flight she had lamed one of her paws.
Of course her beauty was gone, and for a few weeks she was that
deplorable looking object--a singed cat. But oh, what tears of joy I
shed over her, and how I dosed her with catnip tea, and bathed her paw
with arnica, and nursed and petted her till she was quite well again! My
little brother Walter ("That was my papa, you know," Mollie whispered to
her neighbor), who was only three years old, would stand by me while I
was tending her, his chubby face twisted into a comical expression of
sympathy, and say in pitying tones: 'There! there! poo-ittle Dinah! I
know all about it. How oo must huffer' (suffer). The dear little fellow
had burned his finger not long before and remembered the smart.

"I am so