“Well, lad, hast thou seen the Lord Mayor?” was the eager question.

“Ay, verily, I have seen him,” answered Reuben, with a bent brow, and a look of severity on his young face, “but I might as well have spoken to Fido there for all the good I did.”

“Why, how so?” asked his father quickly and sternly; “is the man lost to all sense of his duties?  Where was he? what said he?  Come sit thee down, lad, and eat thy fill, and tell us all the tale.”

Reuben was hungry enough, and his wife hung over him supplying his needs; but he was thinking more of the perils of his fellow citizens, and of the supine conduct of the Mayor, than of anything else.

“I found the worshipful fellow in bed,” he answered.  “Other messengers had arrived with the news, but his servant had not ventured to disturb him.  I, however, would not be denied.  I went up to him in his bed chamber, and I told him what I had seen, and warned him that there was need for prompt action.  But he only answered with an oath and a ribald jest, which I will not repeat in the hearing of my wife or mother; and he would have turned again to his slumbers, had I not well nigh forced him to get up, and had not some of the aldermen arrived at that minute to speak of the matter, and inquire into its magnitude.  They be all of them disposed to say that it will burn itself out fast enough like other fires; but I trow some amongst them are aroused to a fear that it may spread far in this dry wind, and with the houses so parched and cracked with heat.  Then I came away, having done mine errand, and went back to the fire.  It had spread all too fast even in that short time, and the worst thing is that no means seem to be taken to stop it.  The people run about like those distraught, crying that a second judgment has come, that it is God’s doing, and that man cannot fight against it.  They are all seeking to convey away their goods to some safe place; but the fire travels quicker than they, and they are forced to leave their chattels and flee for their lives.  I trow such a sight has never been seen before.”

“It must be like the burning of Rome in the days of the wicked emperor Nero,” said Gertrude in a low, awed voice.  “Pray Heaven they extinguish the flames soon!  It would be fearful indeed were they to last till nightfall.”

At this moment Rachel Harmer came hurrying into the room with a pale scared face.

“The child Dorcas!” she cried.  “Why have we not thought of her?  Is she safe?  Where has the fire reached to?  God forgive me!  I must surely be off my head!  Husband, go for the child; she must be scared to death, even if naught worse has befallen her!”

“I had not forgot the maid,” answered the father; “but it is well she should be looked to now.  The fire has not crossed Thames Street.  Lady Scrope’s house is safe yet a while; but unless things quickly improve, both she and the child should come hither.