A NIGHT ALARM.
"I AM sorry the holidays are so nearly at an end," Lawrence Puttenham
remarked one evening, as he strolled back to the Moat House with
Eric. He was to return to London on the following day to spend a week
at home with his own people before school re-opened. "I've had a
really splendid time," he continued, "and I think we've licked the
Crumleigh Cricket Club into shape, eh, Wallis?"
"Yes," Eric agreed, with a laugh, "and we've got on with the village
boys very well on the whole, haven't we? I am sure Sam Dart, who
certainly looked unfavourably on us both at first, was quite sorry
to say good-bye to you to-night."
"Yes, I believe he was. I wonder if we two are at all likely to meet
here another year. The Vicar said something yesterday about asking me
to visit him again next summer. Do you think you'll be at the
Moat House then?"
"I really can't say. We were asked for a year, and sometimes Uncle
Jasper speaks as though we were settled here, but I don't know about
that. Mother was saying to-day, Putty, how kind and attentive you've
been to her all the time Joy's been ill at the Vicarage."
"Oh, nonsense! I did what I could in the way of running errands
for her and so on, and took care to keep quiet in the house; but
that's been all. I'm glad Joy is so much better, and well enough
to be moved."
"Yes, she's to be brought home on Monday, so she and I will have a
few days together before I go back to school. It's a bother about her
hip—that it keeps her from walking, I mean."
"I suppose it will get well in time?" Lawrence Puttenham inquired.
"Oh, I suppose so," Eric replied, a faint shade of anxiety crossing
his face. "You don't think there's any doubt about it, do you?"
"I never heard anyone say so," was the somewhat evasive answer.
Putty was accompanying his friend to the Moat House in order to say
good-bye to Sir Jasper, whom, on their arrival, they found on the
terrace with Celia. She had been reading the newspaper aloud, but the
light had failed; the short September evening was drawing to a close,
and she was very glad, for she had wearied of her task, a fact
Sir Jasper had failed to notice.
"What, come to say good-bye!" Sir Jasper exclaimed. "I am sorry
for that. I hope we part to meet again," he added with great
cordiality, for Putty stood high in his estimation.
"I hope so," was the smiling response; "and I want to thank you,
Sir Jasper, for all the kindness and hospitality you've shown me."
"Before you came, I remember saying you would be welcome here as
Mr. Cole's godson, and doubly welcome as Eric's friend; now I can say
you will always be welcome for your own sake."
Putty flushed with pleasure on hearing this; and Eric flashed a
smiling glance at Celia, who, however, did not smile in return, being
occupied with thoughts of her own. She looked rather depressed and
unhappy, her brother fancied.
After Putty was gone, the others went into the house to supper, and
an hour later Celia and Eric said good-night to Sir Jasper, and
retired to their own quarters in the east wing.
"Oh, dear! I've spent such a long, dull evening," Celia complained.
"Uncle Jasper kept me reading the newspaper to him for nearly
an hour. I was really thankful when I could see to read no longer."
"Poor girl!" laughed Eric.
"Poor girl, indeed!" sighed Celia. "You boys get by far the best
of it. Oh, what a miserable time I've had whilst Joy's been ill!
First the anxiety and trouble about her; and then having only Uncle
Jasper for a companion, whilst you and Putty have been enjoying
yourselves here, there, and everywhere."
"Well, that's been your own fault," Eric told her, truthfully;
"whilst you were staying with the Tillotsons at T—, Joy used to have
a very good time with Putty and me, but you always refused to join us
in everything. Why, it was only yesterday I asked you to go on a
nutting expedition with us to Brimley copse, and you turned up your
nose at the idea."
"Because Brimley copse is two miles from here; and what fun is there
in climbing hedges after nuts, and scratching yourself in brambles
and—"
"That's all very fine!" Eric interrupted, impatiently. "We were quite
contented that you should remain at home, but you needn't put on an
injured air as though you'd been purposely neglected."
"You have no consideration for me," Celia pouted; "however, I shall
have Joy for a companion again soon."
"Celia, I suppose there is no doubt but that Joy's hip will get well
after a while?" Eric asked, impressively. "Don't you think she ought
to be able to walk by this time?"
"Oh, I suppose Dr. Forbes understands all about it," Celia rejoined,
"and he says she must not stand yet."
Eric looked dissatisfied; but he said no more, and shortly afterwards
the sister and brother separated for the night. The boy, who had been
out-of-doors all the day, and had been playing cricket for several
hours, was very tired, so that the minute his head touched the pillow
he was in the land of dreams. And such disturbing, horrifying dreams
they were too!
He fancied he saw the carriage accident, the lumbering traction
engine, the horses running away, and his mother and sisters flung
from the carriage into the road. Then the scene changed, and he
imagined that he and Putty were making an enormous bonfire in the
Vicarage garden, and that it was burning finely, the flames leaping
up high, whilst clouds of smoke arose from it. A sudden puff of wind
seemed to blow the smoke into his face; it grew thicker and thicker
so that he could not see the bonfire at all; it made his eyes smart,
and almost choked him. He tried to run away, but could not move;
he was bound hand and foot, and though he endeavoured to scream,
his lips refused to utter a sound; then he felt he was falling
headlong over a precipice, and suddenly awoke with a sensation
of shock.
"I've been dreaming," he muttered. "How horrible it was! There's no
bonfire really, and I'm safe in bed all right."
The last thing before getting into bed he had pulled up the blind,
so now the full harvest moon shone into the window, and lit up the
room. Eric opened his eyes and looked around; shut his eyes, and
opened them again. How misty everything looked, and surely he really
did smell smoke!
Fully awakened now, the boy sprang out of bed and slipped on his
dressing-gown. Opening the door, he was startled to find the smell
of smoke stronger outside. Celia's room was between his mother's and
his own, and thither he hurried, rapping sharply upon her door.
Receiving no answer, he turned the handle, but the door refused
to open. It was locked.
Now thoroughly alarmed, Eric rapped louder than before; then he
became aware of the fact that smoke was pouring from under the door,
and through the crevices by the hinges. Uttering a cry of alarm,
he rushed down the passage to the swing door which shut off the east
wing from the rest of the house, and pushing it open shrieked, "Fire!
Fire!" at the top of his voice.
In a very few minutes there were sounds of doors opening, a confusion
of tongues, and Eric shouted:—
"The fire is in the east wing! Get help quickly! Someone come
with me, for Celia's locked into her room, and I can't make
her hear!"
Suddenly remembering that he could gain admittance to his sister's
room through his mother's, Eric waited no longer at the swing door,
but hurriedly retraced his footsteps, conscious that the smoke
was becoming denser and denser. He entered his mother's room and
rushed to the door leading into Celia's apartment, the dread thought
in his mind that that, too, might prove to be locked; but, no! It
opened immediately, and the following moment he was almost driven
back by the volume of smoke which met him on the threshold.
"Celia!" he called, his heart imploring help from God, "Celia, where
are you? Why don't you answer me? Celia!"
There was no reply. Eric sprang forward, and looked wildly around
him. At first he thought the whole room was in flames, for tongues
of flame were leaping around the bed, and creeping across the floor
towards him.
"Celia!" he cried, hoarsely, "Celia!"
He rushed to the bed, expecting to find sister there, but she
was not; instead, she was lying back in an easy chair close by,
wrapped in her dressing-gown, her feet on an ottoman, and her golden
head resting on a pillow. A paper-covered novel lay upon her lap,
and the remains of a candle flared on the ground close to the
smouldering valance of the bed.
[Illustration: "ERIC GRASPED THE SLEEPING GIRL BY THE SHOULDER."]
Eric saw what had happened in a minute. His sister had settled
herself comfortably in the easy chair to read by the light of a
candle which she had placed on a small round table at her elbow.
She had fallen asleep, and unconsciously had knocked the candle off
the table, and thus had set fire to the room. Fortunately the candle
had fallen away from her towards the bed, or she would have, in all
probability, paid for her folly and carelessness by her life.
Eric grasped the sleeping girl by the shoulder and shook her
violently. She stirred and moaned slightly, but did not open her
eyes, for the smoke had quite overpowered her. Then, in his alarm,
Eric shouted loudly for assistance, which proved in a moment, to be
close at hand.
"All right, sir, I don't think the fire's touched her! I'll see
to her!" said a voice, and with a sensation of relief, the boy saw
Gay, the coachman, who always slept in the house, pick the girl up
in his arms and bear her away. Eric followed, almost choked and
blinded with smoke, but with sufficient sense left in him to close
the doors behind him.
The whole household had arisen by this time, including Sir Jasper,
who had already sent to the village for assistance. The servants were
fetching pails of water; but in a very short while no one could enter
Celia's room on account of the flames, which now had spread in every
direction, and everyone realized that the east wing was doomed
to destruction, if not the whole building as well.
Under the housekeeper's instructions, Celia was laid on a sofa in the
drawing-room, where she soon regained consciousness, and was able
to ask what had happened. Mrs. Mallock told her briefly that the
house was on fire; and it was not until Eric came to see how his
sister was doing that she learnt that she had caused the
conflagration.
"It's all your fault!" Eric cried, blurting out the exact truth
in his indignation. "You sat up reading a silly novel, knocked over
the candle, and set the house on fire. You might have been burnt
alive. And we don't know that the whole place won't be burnt down
yet. It all depends upon how long it will be before the fire engine
arrives."
Willing helpers had come from the village, and water was being
carried upstairs in every utensil that could be used for the purpose;
but still the fire spread, though it was kept somewhat within check.
A messenger had been sent to T— for the fire engine, and at last
it arrived, and in a very few minutes the hose was at work upon the
burning wing of the house. Fortunately there was a good supply
of water, and by daybreak the fire had been extinguished; but the
rooms which Mrs. Wallis and her children had occupied were completely
gutted, and open to the sky.
The alarm of fire had spread far and wide so that morning found half
the inhabitants of Crumleigh, and a good few from T— on the terrace
outside the Moat House. Slowly, when the excitement was all over,
the crowd dispersed, until only Miss Pring and the Vicar were left.
Lawrence Puttenham had been amongst the number present; but he had
thoughtfully returned to the Vicarage to assure the household there
that no one's life was in danger; and it was not until Mr. Cole
arrived home to his breakfast at eight o'clock that Mrs. Wallis
learnt how the fire had commenced.
"Celia set the house on fire!" she exclaimed when she knew the facts
of the case. "And but for Eric she would have been burnt alive!
Oh, Celia, Celia!"
"She's a very foolish little girl, I fear, Mrs. Wallis. She sat up
reading a novel, and locked her door—"
"Locked her door!" Mrs. Wallis interposed. "I never permit her to do
that. Are you quite sure? Oh, what could have induced her to do it?"
"The knowledge that she was reading a book of which those about her
would disapprove, I imagine." The Vicar forthwith told Mrs. Wallis
how he had seen Celia with Lulu Tillotson in the stationer's shop
at T— and how they had been employed. "Miss Pring has taken her back
to Home Vale for the present, for, as you can easily imagine,
Sir Jasper is greatly incensed against her," he said, in conclusion.
Mrs. Wallis was looking very pale, and immeasurably shocked. She was
not surprised to hear of her uncle's anger. How sadly he had been
repaid for his kindness to her and her family.
"Does Joy know about the fire?" the Vicar inquired.
"Yes, she heard the fire engine pass in the night, but she knows
no details, and I shall keep her in ignorance of them until I have
seen Uncle Jasper. If our rooms at the Moat House are destroyed,
we must alter our plans. Mr. Cole, I think I shall take the children
back to A—."
He appeared surprised, but, after a moment's thought, he responded:
"You must talk the matter over with Sir Jasper. Although you have
arranged to leave here on Monday, that is no reason why you should
go. You and your little girl are very welcome guests."
"You are most kind," Mrs. Wallis replied, gratefully, "but we have
trespassed on your hospitality so long already. I shall never be able
to thank you for all your goodness to us. I must go to the Moat House
after breakfast, and consult Uncle Jasper."
Poor Mrs. Wallis was unutterably grieved at all she had heard. She
felt ashamed and humiliated on Celia's account, and shuddered as she
reflected how nearly the little girl had lost her life. Ah, how great
cause had she for gratitude to God for His merciful care of her
erring child! She decided to stop at Home Vale on her way to the
Moat House, and hear what Celia had to say concerning the events
of the night. Meanwhile, she left her breakfast untasted, for she was
thoroughly unnerved, and intensely unhappy. She wondered if Celia
had acquired the habit of reading in her bedroom whilst she had been
staying with Lulu Tillotson; and then suddenly she remembered the
paper-covered novel which Wag had destroyed in the rock garden, and
the suspicion crossed her mind for the first time that it might have
belonged to her elder daughter. If so, Celia must have allowed her
sister to be blamed in her stead.
Mrs. Wallis felt she must have a full explanation of everything from
Celia now, and if possible, learn the actual state of affairs. It had
appeared to her lately that she had found a safe haven of refuge from
many a trouble and care; but as she reflected on events of the night,
she much doubted there would be a home for her and her family at the
Moat House any longer.