"Sorry, Mrs. Carter, but it's impossible. There has n't been a fire in this town for the last three months, and then it was only a false alarm. They 're sore enough as it is because we got here first. A little water won't hurt anything; we 're in need of rain. You go in the house, Mrs. Carter, and trust to me. I won't let them do any more damage than necessary."
The hose company bore down upon the scene of confusion that surrounded the wrecked waggon-shed with an air of pleased expectancy. Their faces fell as they caught sight of the pitiable size of the fire; but the new chief, with quickly reviving cheerfulness, usurped dictatorship, and soon had a generous stream of water playing upon the embers.
Mrs. Carter, with a last plaintive appeal to Peter to get rid of them, resumed her natural aloofness; and she and Mrs. Brainard trailed their smoke-grimed splendour toward the house, driving the vanquished braves before them.
When, finally, the last spark was irretrievably
