"Just behind, riding home with Raymond and the rest of them. Wasn't
it a magnificent flare-up? But there was no loss of life; and this
dog was of as much use as two men--carried whatever I told him."

"Good old man! You've suffered too!" said Rosamond. "Pah! you're
like a singed horse; but never mind, you're a hero."

"And where is Mr. Charnock Poynsett?" said Cecil, retreating from
the dog, which her sisters-in-law were vehemently patting.

"He was arranging with the mayor. Church, paper-mills, and town-
hall got the worst of it. It was well he came down; old Briggs, the
mayor, lost his head, and Fuller never had one. Every one gave
contrary orders till he came down, and then, didn't we work!"

The curate stretched his stalwart limbs, as if they were becoming
sensible of the strain they had undergone.

"Did you say the church was burnt?" asked Cecil.

"Yes; and a very good thing too! Hideous place, where you couldn't
do right if you died for it! The fire began there--stoves no doubt--
and there it would have stopped if any one had had any sense; but
there they would run and gape, and the more I tried to get them to
form a chain and drench the warehouses, the more they wouldn't do
it. And when the flame once got hold of the paper--did you see it?--
it was not a thing to forget. I verily believe the whole town
would have gone if the Charnocks hadn't come and got a little
discipline into the asses. It was just life and death work,
fighting the fire to hinder it from getting across Water Lane, and