George gazed frantically down and
around, to see if any help was arriving. Not a soul was to be seen.
Smoke was pouring from almost every window. The ladies were speechless
with alarm when they saw the look of despair on the boy's face.
"Don't leave us!" Mary pleaded piteously.
"No, no!" cried George. "We'll find a way yet." But cheerfully as he
spoke, in his heart he almost despaired.
It was but a few seconds the three had been in the playroom, but when
they looked out into the corridor again, to their horror they found it
blazing, the flames leaping towards them with astonishing bounds,
carried along by the evening breeze that had sprung up. The sight
seemed to drive Mrs. Maynard demented. With a shriek she darted away,
sped along the burning passage, and before the boy and girl could
realize the situation, she had dashed down the blazing staircase. The
sound of a crash and a fearful scream reached their ears, telling
their own tale. The girl clung to George, her head sank, and she
fainted.
Desperate now, the lad placed her on the floor, and, thrusting his
head from the window, perceived that he could clamber up the two or
three feet of rain spout that ran close by, and gain a position on the
roof just overhead.
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