Part 16 (1/2)

”It's the inside that's the worst, mother; perhaps if you put a bit of cotton-wool there and tie it round the back it will do; we can't go out with our hands all swaddled round like that. And now, please, directly you have done we want to go down again to see the fire. Just you go up to the road corner, mother. It's a grand sight, I can tell you.”

”We will have tea first,” Mrs. Andrews said decidedly; ”everything has been ready except pouring the water in since eight o'clock, and it's a quarter past nine now. After we have done I will put on my bonnet and walk down with you as near as I can get. I am not going to lose you out of my sight again.”

So after their meal they went down together, but could not get anywhere near the works, all the approaches now being guarded by the police. It was a grand sight, but the worst was over, and there was a general feeling of confidence in the crowd that it would spread no further. A dozen engines were at work now. Some of the firemen were on the roof, some on the stacks of timber, which looked red-hot from the deep glow from the fire. The flames were intermittent now, sometimes leaping up high above the sh.e.l.l of the burned-out buildings, then dying down again.

”Thank G.o.d it's no worse!” Mrs. Andrews said fervently. ”It would have been a bad winter for a great many down here if the fire had spread; as it is, not a quarter of the buildings are burned.”

”No, nothing like that, mother; not above a tenth, I should say. It's lucky that there was a strong wall between that and the next shops, or it must all have gone. I have heard them say that part was added on five or six years ago, so that the wall at the end of the planing-shop was an outside wall before; that accounts for its being so thick.”

After looking on for about half an hour they went back home. But neither of the boys got much sleep that night, the excitement they had gone through and the pain of their burns keeping them wide awake till nearly morning. As Mrs. Andrews heard no movement in their rooms--whereas they were usually up and about almost as early on Sundays as on other days, being unable to sleep after their usual hour for rising--she did not disturb them. George was the first to awake, and looking out of the window felt sure by the light that it was later than usual. He put his head out of the door and shouted:

”Bill, are you up?” There was no answer. ”Mother, are you up; what o'clock is it?”

”Up! hours ago, George. Why, it's past eleven!”

George gave an exclamation of astonishment and rushed into Bill's room. The latter had woke at his shout.

”It's past eleven, Bill, and mother has been up for hours;” and he dashed off again to his room to dress. It was but a few minutes before they came downstairs just at the same moment.

”Why didn't you wake us, mother?”

”Because I thought it better to let you sleep on, George. I guessed that your burns had kept you awake for some time.”

”That they did. I thought I was never going to get to sleep,” George said; and Bill gave a similar account of himself. ”Still, mother, a short night does no harm for once, and you haven't been able to get to church.”

”It does not matter for once, George. What figures you both are!”

”We are figures,” George said ruefully. ”I hardly knew myself when I looked in the gla.s.s. My eyes are almost shut up, and the skin is peeling off my nose, and my hair is all rough and scrubby; and Bill looks as bad as I do. You are a figure, Bill!” and George burst into a fit of laughter.

”He's no worse than you, George; but come along, breakfast is waiting.”

”You haven't waited breakfast for us, I hope, mother?”

”I made myself a cup of tea the first thing, boys, and had a slice of bread and b.u.t.ter, for I thought you might not be down for some time; but I am quite ready to join you; we have got fish. I put them down directly you called.”

”Well, I am glad you are not starving, mother; and I am glad too you didn't have your regular breakfast. It would have been horrid to sit down on Sunday morning without you, when it's the only regular breakfast we get in the week.”

Just as they had finished their meal there was a knock at the door. It was Bob Grimstone. Bill opened the door.

”Well, how are you to-day, lad? I thought I would just come round and see. You look pretty badly burned; and so do you, George,” he added, as he followed Bill into the sitting room.

”Good-day, Mrs. Andrews.”

”Good-morning, Mr. Grimstone,” Mrs. Andrews said. Since her coming the Grimstones had several times come in on Sunday afternoon to Laburnum Villas. Mrs. Andrews would, indeed, have wished them to come in more frequently, for she felt much indebted to them for their kindness to George, and, moreover, liked them for themselves, for both were good specimens of their cla.s.s.

”I see you were busy last night too, Mr. Grimstone; your face looks scorched; but you did not manage to get yourself burned as these silly boys did. What a blessing it is for us all that the fire did not spread!”

”Well, Mrs. Andrews, I don't think those two lads can have told you what they did, for if they had you would hardly call them silly boys.”

Mrs. Andrews looked surprised.