Part 24 (2/2)

The danger of the ruin spreading was now entirely at an end; and every minute the glare became duller and fainter. The ”clank-clank: thud-thud” of the engine still kept on hour after hour, for the smouldering heaps of ashes every now and then burst out into flame; but a shower from the branches soon reduced its brightness to a cloud of steam and smoke. The day had long dawned, and at last up rose the sun upon the scene of devastation, and a sad sight it was, and the more so from the whispers abroad that it was the work of some evil-minded person, who, for reasons of his own, had set fire to the stacks; but happily this afterwards proved not to have been the case, for the fire was the result of an accident: a tramp, who had lain down in the straw to sleep, having dropped the match with which he lit his pipe, when the dry straw caught fire, and the flames ran up the side of the stack by his side in a few seconds.

It was indeed a sad sight, for all around lay sodden and blackened straw, charred beams, and smoking rafters, half-burnt boards, scorched sacks; in short, it was a scene of ruin, and the smoke and steam ascended in clouds towards the bright morning sky. An occasional dash from the branch was now sufficient to keep the fire under, and the greater part of the worn and jaded working people, after partaking of refreshments at the Grange kitchen, went home to s.n.a.t.c.h a few hours'

rest, and among those who went to seek rest were Mr Inglis and the boys. But on entering the house they found the blinds open, and the breakfast cloth spread, so that they all sat down to a refres.h.i.+ng meal; after which everybody declared that it would be a pity to go to bed on so bright a morning.

Fred seemed, however, to have something on his mind; and at last stammeringly asked his uncle if this disaster would not prove a serious loss. His fears, however, were set at rest by Mr Inglis, who smiled, and told him that it would have been, but for the exercise of prudence and forethought, for, said he--

”If I had not been insured, it would have been a much more terrible affair; but now the insurance company will either pay me the full value of everything that has been destroyed by way of compensation, or build up the whole of my barns and fill them again, so that you see I shall have new ones instead of old.”

”But they can't build a new horse and pigs again,” said Harry.

”No, poor creatures,” said Mr Inglis; ”that was a sad death for them.

However, we have the satisfaction of knowing that we did our best to save them.”

”But what is insurance?” inquired Fred.

”Why, to explain it simply,” said Mr Inglis, ”a body of men join together, and pay each of them a small sum of money yearly into a place of business, which they have in London; and then, when anybody who belongs to them has a misfortune, and his place is burnt, he has, from this money that has been paid up in littles, enough sent to him to pay for all the damage that has been done. Some people keep on paying in all their lifetime, and never have a misfortune, and so that money goes to help those who have. Thus in my time I have never had a mishap of this kind before, but have been paying year after year, for a very long time, and what I have paid has gone to help those who have been in trouble; now my turn has come, and I shall write to London to the people who manage, when they will send down a gentleman to see what is the amount of damage done, and then they will pay me the money at once, or, perhaps, repair the damages. So you see, my boy, there is nothing like prudence and foresight, not only in guarding against fire, but in all things.”

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

A BROKEN DAY.

In spite of the resolution to sit up as it had grown so late, the boys did not seem at all the thing: there was a great disposition to yawn, and a general feeling of being uncomfortable. Things appeared strange and irregular, and the events of the past night to have taken place a long time back; and at last, by the advice of Mrs Inglis, they all three went off to bed--the dinner being put off till a later hour.

As for Mr Inglis, he was busy enough in the farm-yard till dinner-time, for, in the present state of confusion, it was impossible to tell what amount of damage was done, and what had been saved from the flames.

Implements and tools were spread about in all directions, and the extent of the ruin almost put him in a state of despair; but he reflected that the misfortune might have been of a far more serious nature, and then set to work busier than ever.

By twelve o'clock the engine had gone back to the town, the fire being completely extinct; and then there were arrangements to make for the horses, pigs, cows, and poultry, all of which required immediate attention; for, although Mr Inglis kept a manager or bailiff to attend to his farm, yet, in such a case of emergency as the present, he found plenty to call for his own aid.

About three o'clock the boys made their appearance again, well refreshed with the five or six hours' sleep they had taken; but the whole place looked so desolate and miserable, that they very soon scampered off into the garden, to amuse themselves with a few strawberries and gooseberries. When they had had enough fruit, they took some into the green-house for the parrot, who made a noise like the smacking of lips upon being shown the strawberries, which she seemed to enjoy wonderfully; while as for the gooseberries, they were capital amus.e.m.e.nt, for she picked the seeds out of the pulp one at a time, and then danced up and down as though in ecstasy.

But they were soon tired of playing with Poll, and betook themselves to the yard to tease the old raven; but he was not in a mood to be teased, so showed fight, and pecked viciously at every one who came near him, till at last, feeling that might would eventually overcome right, and the boys prove too much for him, he took to his old place of refuge, the horse-chestnut tree, where he sat and barked and laughed at his late aggressors.

They next turned their attention to d.i.c.k, who had not had a run since the day when he had his eye cut by the stone thrown by Bill Jenkins's party. The cut was healed up; and very soon d.i.c.k was capering round the yard in fine style, but somehow or other his capers did not give satisfaction to his masters; they wanted something new, and they could find nothing fresh to amuse them, till all at once the yard gate opened, and a lad appeared with a letter in his hand.

”Wow--wow--wuff,” said d.i.c.k, making at the intruder open-mouthed, but the new-comer was too quick for the dog, for he darted back, and shut the gate in his face.

Back darted d.i.c.k, and out at the door at the other end, and then round by the shrubbery.

Harry and Philip both tried to open the gate, but the new-comer--whom they had recognised as Fred's late adversary, Bill Jenkins, was holding on tightly, so that they could not move it in the least. But in the course of a few seconds there was the sound of rus.h.i.+ng feet through the shrubbery; a loud yell; and then the gate was released, and upon being opened there stood, or rather reeled about, Bill Jenkins, and d.i.c.k, who owed him a grudge for the stone-throwing, tight hold of him by the trousers and shaking away at them as hard as he possibly could; and all the while snarling and growling as viciously as a dog could snarl and growl.

”Help! help!” roared Bill Jenkins.

”Worry--worry--worry,” went d.i.c.k.

”Help! help! murder!” roared Bill Jenkins again; and then, tripping over a stone, he fell sprawling on the gravel-walk, when d.i.c.k, with all the importance of a conqueror, left his hold of the trousers and leaped upon the fallen enemy's breast, where he stood with his red tongue lolling out, and wagging his tail.

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