"For God's sake, come along and help, my good lad," cried an old man
in livery, beckoning him frantically.
"What's the matter?" George asked quickly.
"The house is on fire," was the reply, "and there's nobody at home but
the women folk, except old Reuben, and he's just about as much use as
me, and that's none at all, I reckon."
"Where's Mr. Blackett?" the lad asked as he cleared the fence at a
bound, and stood by the old man's side on the lawn.
"Gone off to a party, and young Master Matthew with him. Run and do
what you can, for Heaven's sake, and I'll follow."
George bounded across the grass like a hare, and bolted into the house
without ceremony, for he now perceived smoke issuing from several of
the front windows. In the hall he found old Reuben, the aged butler,
whom Mr. Blackett still provided with a home, doing what he could to
stay the progress of the flames, by throwing upon the burning
staircase little pailfuls of water brought by the maid servants. But,
in truth most of the women were screaming, and those who were not were
fainting.
"I'm almost moidered with it all," the old fellow cried helplessly, to
which the superannuated gardener, who now came wheezing in, added,
"Aye, we're both on us moidered.
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