Mrs. Burton occasionally suggested to her husband that it might be well to see where the boys were, and what they were doing; but that gentleman had seldom before found himself the only man among a dozen comely and intelligent ladies, and he was too conscious of the variety of such experiences to trouble himself about a couple of people who had unlimited ability to keep themselves out of trouble; so the boys were undisturbed for the space of two hours.  A sudden Summer shower came up in the meantime, and a sentimental young lady requested the song “Rain upon the Roof,” and Mrs. Burton and her husband began to render it as a duet; but in the middle of the second stanza Mrs. Burton began to cough, Mr. Burton sniffed the air apprehensively, while several of the ladies started to their feet while others turned pale.  The air of the room was evidently filled with smoke.

“There can’t be any danger, ladies,” said Mrs. Burton.  “You all know what the American domestic servant is.  I suppose our cook, with her delicate sense of the appropriate, is relighting her fire, and has the kitchen doors wide open, so that all the smoke may escape through the house instead of the chimney.  I’ll go and stop it.”

The mere mention of servants had its usual effect; the ladies began at once that animated conversation which this subject has always inspired, and which it will probably continue to inspire until all housekeepers gather in that happy land, one of whose charms it is that the American kitchen is undiscernible within its borders, and the purified domestic may stand before her mistress without needing a scolding.  But one nervous young lady, whose agitation was being manifested by her feet alone, happened to touch with the toe of her boot the turn-screw of the hot-air register.  Instantly she sprang back and uttered a piercing scream, while from the register there arose a thick column of smoke.

“Fire!” screamed one lady.

“Water!” shrieked another.

“Oh!” shouted several in chorus.

Some ran up-stairs, others into the rainy street, the nervous young lady fainted, a business-like young matron, who had for years been maturing plans of operation in case of fire, hastily swept into a table-cover a dozen books in special morocco bindings, and hurried through the rain with them to a house several hundred feet away, while the faithful dog Jerry, scenting the trouble afar off, hurried home and did his duty to the best of his ability by barking and snapping furiously at every one, and galloping frantically through the house, leaving his mark upon almost every square yard of the carpet.  Meanwhile Mr. Burton hurried up-stairs coatless, with disarranged hair, dirty hands, smirched face, and assured the ladies that there was no danger, while Budge and Toddie, the former deadly pale, and the latter almost apoplectic in color, sneaked up to their own chamber.