Judy shuffled off, lamenting, but Roseen sat still at her open casement, pondering mournfully on the misfortunes which had overwhelmed those she loved, and bewailing her impotence to help them.  Soon all was absolutely still; the house was wrapt in slumber, and at last, rising, chilled and weary, the girl prepared to go to rest.  As she closed the window her eye was caught by a curious appearance in the sky, immediately above the long line of the regularly shaped stacks in the haggard.  The big hayrick particularly was defined with curious clearness against what seemed to be a glow in the sky.  As she looked a sudden tongue of flame sprang out from the western corner, and ran leaping up the great dark mass, spreading and widening as it went; then sparks were thrown out, and Roseen suddenly realised that the great rick, composed of tons upon tons of hay, worth at this moment a fortune in itself, was on fire.  Screaming she rushed frantically to the door, but owing to Peter’s forethought she was locked in.  In vain she hammered and shrieked; no one heeded her.  Such labourers as remained on the premises at night slept over the stables; the two maid-servants whom Peter employed only came by day.  If Judy heard, she had not the sense to heed; and old Peter himself, snuggling into his pillows, merely turned over when the din reached his ears, muttering to himself with righteous indignation that a body would think the girl would know better nor behave that way, but let her shout as much as she liked an’ tire herself out, she’d be apt to be a bit quieter in the mornin’.  Meanwhile the little flame, which Roseen had first seen, had grown apace.  The slight crackling sound which had originally accompanied its progress, was replaced by a sullen roar; volumes of ruddy smoke filled the air; a pungent, peculiar smell penetrated even to Roseen’s room, almost suffocating her.  Would no one hear, would no one heed?  Taking the poker she knocked on the floor, hoping to produce some response from her grandfather, but finding that he did not answer she fell to hammering and battering the lock of her door with such vigour and good-will that at last she succeeded in breaking it.  Rushing down stairs, candle in hand, she burst in upon old Peter.

“Get up, grandfather, get up at wanst! the big rick is on fire, and will be burnt to a cinder if you don’t make haste.”  Old Peter sat up, blinking at the light, and at first refusing to believe Roseen; but when the girl flung open the window and he saw and heard for himself that the alarm was only too well founded, he fairly burst out crying like a child.

“Me rick, me beautiful rick!  I’m ruined and destroyed entirely!  What’ll I do at all?”

“Get up!” said Roseen sharply, “and let’s get all the help we can.  I’ll run out an’ call Jack an’ Barney, an’ do you put on your clothes an’ fill the stable bucket.”

She flew out, and after some trouble succeeded in rousing the men in question, who, however, when they arrived on the scene and saw the extent of the damage which had already been done, gave her little hope of being able to arrest its progress.