‘Oh, help me!  Don’t let her!  Help me!’

‘What’s up with you, Jane?’ asked Clara, for it was she who, not being yet in bed, had come forth at once on hearing the scream.

Jane could only cling to her garment, pant hysterically, repeat the same words of entreaty again and again.  Another door opened, and John Hewett appeared half-dressed.

‘What’s wrong?’ he cried.  ’The ‘ouse o’ fire?  Who yelled out like that?’

Clem was coming up; she spoke from the landing below.

’It’s that Jane, just because I gave her a rap as she deserved.  Send her down again.’

‘Oh, no!’ cried the poor girl.  ’Miss Hewett! be a friend to me!  She’s goin’ to shut me up all night with the coffin.  Don’t let her, miss!  I durstn’t!  Oh, be a friend to me!’

‘Little liar!’ shouted Clem.  ‘Oh, that bloomin’ little liar! when I never said a word o’ such a thing!’

‘I’ll believe her a good deal sooner than you,’ returned Clara sharply.  ‘Why, anybody can see she’s tellin’ the truth—­can’t they, father?  She’s half-scared out of her life.  Come in here, Jane; you shall stay here till morning.’

By this time all the grown-up people in the house were on the staircase; the clang of tongues was terrific.  Clem held her ground stoutly, and in virulence was more than a match for all her opponents.  Even Bob did not venture to take her part; he grinned down over the banisters, and enjoyed the entertainment immensely.  Dick Snape, whose room Bob shared, took the opportunity of paying off certain old scores he had standing against Clem.  Mr. Marple, the cab-driver, was very loud and very hoarse in condemnation of such barbarity.  Mrs. Hewett, looking as if she had herself risen from a coffin, cried shame on the general heartlessness with which Jane was used.

Clara held to her resolve.  She led Jane into the bedroom, then, with a parting shot at Miss Peckover, herself entered and locked the door.

‘Drink some water, Jane,’ she said, doing her best to reassure the child.  ’You’re safe for to-night, and we’ll see what Mrs. Peckover says about this when she comes back to-morrow.’

Jane looked at her rescuer with eyes in which eternal gratitude mingled with fear for the future.  She could cry now, poor thing, and so little by little recover herself.  Words to utter her thanks she had none; she could only look something of what she felt.  Clara made her undress and lie down with little Tom on the mattress.  In a quarter of an hour the candle was extinguished, and but for the wind, which rattled sashes and doors, and made ghostly sounds in the chimneys, there was silence throughout the house.

Something awoke Clara before dawn.  She sat up, and became aware that Jane was talking and crying wildly, evidently re-acting in her sleep the scene of a few hours ago.  With difficulty Clara broke her slumber.

‘Don’t you feel well, Jane?’ she asked, noticing a strangeness in the child’s way of replying to her.