Fortunately, it was a half-holiday, so the children could trim and chatter to their hearts’ content, and the little girls ran about sticking funny decorations where no one would ever think of looking for them.  Ben was absorbed in his flags, which were sprinkled all down the avenue with a lavish display, suggesting several Fourth-of-Julys rolled into one.  Mr. Brown had come down to lend a hand, and did so most energetically, for the break-neck things he did with his son during the decoration fever would have terrified Mrs. Moss out of her wits if she had not been in the house giving last touches to every room, while Ronda and Katy set forth a sumptuous tea.

All was going well, and the train would be due in an hour, when luckless Bab nearly turned the rejoicing into mourning, the feast into ashes.  She heard her mother say to Ronda, “There ought to be a fire in every room, it looks so cheerful, and the air is chilly spite of the sunshine,” and never waiting to hear the reply that some of the long-unused chimneys were not safe till cleaned, off went Bab with an apron full of old shingles and made a roaring blaze in the front room fire-place, which was of all others the one to be let alone, as the flue was out of order.  Charmed with the brilliant light and the crackle of the tindery fuel, Miss Bab refilled her apron and fed the fire till the chimney began to rumble ominously, sparks to fly out at the top, and soot and swallows’ nests to come tumbling down upon the hearth.  Then, scared at what she had done, the little mischief-maker hastily buried her fire, swept up the rubbish, and ran off, thinking no one would discover her prank if she never told.

Everybody was very busy, and the big chimney blazed and rumbled unnoticed till the cloud of smoke caught Ben’s eye as he festooned his last effort in the flag line, part of an old sheet with the words “Father has come!” in red cambric letters, half a foot long, sewed upon it.

“Hullo, I do believe they’ve got up a bonfire without asking my leave!  Miss Celia never would let us, because the sheds and roofs are so old and dry; I must see about it.  Catch me, Daddy, I’m coming down!” cried Ben, dropping out of the elm with no more thought of where he might alight than a squirrel swinging from bough to bough.

His father caught him, and followed in haste as his nimble-footed son raced up the avenue, to stop in the gate-way, frightened at the prospect before him, for falling sparks had already kindled the roof here and there, and the chimney smoked and roared like a small volcano, while Katy’s wails and Ronda’s cries for water came from within.

“Up there, with wet blankets, while I get out the hose!” cried Mr. Brown, as he saw at a glance what the danger was.