“Yes, truly, I did much to garnish their house, and I built out a private parlour for my lady, all of looking glass and gilding.  Not long since I purified the house for them with the costliest of spices.  Lord Desborough thinks all the world of his beauteous lady.  They are devoted to each other, which is a goodly thing to see in these days.  He will be greatly alarmed if she be seriously indisposed.  He is a right worthy gentleman; and with thy permission I will accompany Joseph to St. Paul’s tomorrow and learn the latest tidings of her.”

“With all my heart,” answered the mother; and soon after that the Master Builder took his departure, and both houses settled to rest for the night.

It might have been two or three o’clock in the morning, none could say exactly how time went on that memorable day, when the Master Builder was awakened by sounds in the adjoining chamber, where Reuben and his wife slept; and before he was fully awake, he heard Gertrude’s voice at his door crying out: 

“O father, father! there is such a dreadful fire!  Reuben is going out to see where it is.  Methinks it must be very nigh at hand.  Prithee go with him, and see that he comes to no hurt!”

The Master Builder was awake in an instant, and although it was an hour at which the room should be dark, he found it quite sufficiently light to dress without trouble, owing to the red glare of fire somewhere in the neighbourhood.

“Pray Heaven it be not very near us!” was the cry of his heart as he hurried into his clothes, remembering his own auguries of a short time back respecting the spread of fire, if once it got a hold upon a street or building.

He was dressed in a moment, and had joined Reuben as the latter was feeling his way to the fastenings of the door.  Two of the shopmen, who slept below, were already aroused and wishful to join them; and as they emerged into the street, which was quite light with the palpitating glow of fire, the door of the Harmers’ house opened to admit the exit of the master of the house and his son Joseph.

“Thou hast seen it also!  I fear me it is very nigh at hand.  I had a good look from my topmost window, and methought it must surely be in Long Lane or in Pudding Lane; certainly it is in one of the narrow thoroughfares turning off northward from Thames Street.  It must have been burning for some while.  It seems to have taken firm hold.  Belike the poor creatures there are all too terrified to do aught to check the spread of the flames.  We must see what can be done.  It will not do to let the flames get a hold.  This strong dry wind will spread them west and north with terrible speed, if something be not done to check them!”

James Harmer spoke with the air of a man who is used to offices of authority.  He had exercised one so long during the crisis of the plague, that the habit of thinking for his fellow citizens still clung to him.  It appeared to him to be his bounden duty to do what he could to save life and property; and all the time he spoke he was hastening along the bridge in the direction of the smoke clouds and flames.