"Oh," said Bobbie, seeing the bargewoman and making for her. "Your
barge cabin's on fire. Go quickly."
The woman started to her feet, and put a big red hand to her waist,
on the left side, where your heart seems to be when you are
frightened or miserable.
"Reginald Horace!" she cried in a terrible voice; "my Reginald
Horace!"
"All right," said Bobbie, "if you mean the baby; got him out safe.
Dog, too." She had no breath for more, except, "Go on--it's all
alight."
Then she sank on the ale-house bench and tried to get that breath of
relief after running which people call the 'second wind.' But she
felt as though she would never breathe again.
Bill the Bargee rose slowly and heavily. But his wife was a hundred
yards up the road before he had quite understood what was the
matter.
Phyllis, shivering by the canal side, had hardly heard the quick
approaching feet before the woman had flung herself on the railing,
rolled down the bank, and snatched the baby from her.
"Don't," said Phyllis, reproachfully; "I'd just got him to sleep."
* * * * * *
Bill came up later talking in a language with which the children
were wholly unfamiliar.
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