Ben vanished, and, before his father got the garden hose rigged, he was on the roof with a dripping blanket over the worst spot.  Mrs. Moss had her wits about her in a minute, and ran to put in the fire-board and stop the draught.  Then, stationing Ronda to watch that the falling cinders did no harm inside, she hurried off to help Mr. Brown, who might not know where things were.  But he had roughed it so long that he was the man for emergencies, and seemed to lay his hand on whatever was needed, by a sort of instinct.  Finding that the hose was too short to reach the upper part of the roof, he was on the roof in a jiffy with two pails of water, and quenched the most dangerous flames before much harm was done.  This he kept up till the chimney burned itself out, while Ben dodged about among the gables with a watering-pot, lest some stray sparks should be overlooked and break out afresh.

While they worked there, Betty ran to and fro with a dipper of water trying to help, and Sancho barked violently, as if he objected to this sort of illumination.  But where was Bab, who reveled in flurries?  No one missed her till the fire was out, and the tired, sooty people met to talk over the danger just escaped.

“Poor Miss Celia wouldn’t have had a roof over her head if it hadn’t been for you, Mr. Brown,” said Mrs. Moss, sinking into a kitchen chair, pale with the excitement.

“It would have burnt lively, but I guess it’s all right now.  Keep an eye on the roof, Ben, and I’ll step up garret and see if all’s safe there.  Didn’t you know that chimney was foul, ma’am?” asked the man, as he wiped the perspiration off his grimy face.

“Ronda said it was, and I’m surprised she made a fire there,” began Mrs. Moss, looking at the maid, who just then came in with a pan full of soot.

“Bless you, ma’am, I never thought of such a thing, nor Katy neither.  That naughty Bab must have done it, and so don’t dar’st to show herself,” answered the irate Ronda, whose nice room was in a mess.

“Where is the child?” asked her mother, and a hunt was immediately instituted by Betty and Sancho, while the elders cleared up.

Anxious Betty searched high and low, called and cried, but all in vain, and was about to sit down in despair, when Sancho made a bolt into his new kennel and brought out a shoe with a foot in it, while a doleful squeal came from the straw within.

“Oh, Bab, how could you do it?  Ma was frightened dreadfully,” said Betty, gently tugging at the striped leg, as Sancho poked his head in for another shoe.

“Is it all burnt up!” demanded a smothered voice from the recesses of the kennel.

“Only pieces of the roof.  Ben and his father put it out, and I helped,” answered Betty, cheering up a little as she recalled her noble exertions.

“What do they do to folks who set houses afire?” asked the voice again.

“I don’t know; but you needn’t be afraid; there isn’t much harm done, I guess, and Miss Celia will forgive you, she’s so good.”