ble to find anything more for his hands to do. He
had swept the barn floor until it was as clean as a broom could make
it; the wood in the shed had been piled methodically; a goodly supply
of kindlings were prepared, and not so much as a pebble was to be seen
on the velvety lawn.

Gladys had tried in vain to entice him away from what she declared was
useless labor, and Snip did all within the power of a dog to coax his
master into joining him in the jolly strolls among the trees or across
the green fields, and yet Seth remained nearabout the little house in
a feverish search for something with which to employ his hands.

"It's no use, Snippey dear," he said on the fourth night of his stay
at the farm, after the family had retired, "I can't stay an' not tell
Aunt Hannah, an' it's certain we won't be allowed to stop more'n a
minute after she knows the truth. If I could talk to her in the dark,
when I couldn't see her face, it wouldn't seem quite so bad; but we go
to bed so early there's no chance for that. We must have it out mighty
soon, for I can't hang 'round here many hours longer without tellin'
all about ourselves."

He was not ready for bed, although an hour had passed since he bade
Aunt Hannah and Gladys good-night.

The moon had gilded the rail fence, the shed, and the barn until they
were transformed into fairy handiwork; the road gleamed like gold with
an enamel of black marking the position of trees and bushes, and Seth
had gazed upon the wondrous picture without really being aware of
time's flight.

Having repeated to Snip that which was in his mind, the boy was on the
point of making himself ready for a visit from the dream elves when he
heard, apparently from the room below, what sounded like a fall, a
smothered exclamation, and the splintering of glass.

Only for a single instant did he stand motionless, and then, realizing
that some accident must have happened, he ran downstairs, Snip
following close behind, barking shrilly.

Once in the kitchen an exclamation of terror burst from his lips.

The room was illumined by a line of fire, seemingly extending entirely
across the floor, which was fringed by a dense smoke that rose nearly
to the ceiling, and, beside the table, where she had evidently fallen,
lay Aunt Hannah, struggling to smother with bare hands the yellow,
dancing flames that had fastened upon her clothing.

It needed not the fragments of glass and brass to tell Seth that the
little wo