"She is a tough piece," sighed Mrs. Rosenberg, as she laid her weary limbs to repose; "I didn't know, one while, but she'd get away in spite of me. I wonder what her father'll pay me. He seems to think this is a house of correction. Her mother won't be likely to let her stay more than one day. I'll have on the best table-cloth for breakfast; and along in the forenoon I'll fetch out some macaroni cakes and lager beer; that'll coax her up, I guess." Just then Mrs. Rosenberg down stairs and Dotty Dimple up stairs both fell asleep. One dreamed of running away and being chased by a dog with a hat on his head, who barked "Good-night" as fiercely as a bite. The other dreamed of money and brown sugar. And all the while the rats were treating themselves to nibbles of wood; but nobody heard them. Be careful, old rats! Your teeth have done mischief before now! The night wore on to the wee small hours, when a loud noise like a cannon startled Mrs. Rosenberg; or was she dreaming? The house was shaken to its very foundation, as if by an earthquake, and the room was full of smoke. She was just running for the children, when the building fell together with a crash, the roof was blown off into the street, the windows were shivered to atoms, and tongues of flame leaped madly up from the ruins. What did it mean? She was so stunned by the shock that she scarcely cared whether one of her children was spared or not; she only thought in her stupor that Mr. Parlin would not pay her for Dotty's lodging if the child was blown to pieces. "I know how it happened," said she, twitching at her own hair to arouse herself. "Just as Abraham always said; the rats have been nibbling matches in the store; they've burned a hole through the floor, and set fire to that keg of gunpowder. Yes, that's it!" CHAPTER VII. PLAYING PRISONER. I know how it happened, too. It came of eating sausages. Mrs. Rosenberg, after she was fairly awake, felt so uncomfortable and oppressed that she went up stairs to see if the children were safe. Really, I do suppose those little human souls were precious to her, after all. There lay Mandoline and Dotty side by side on the buffalo skins; and the Jewish mother stood in her short night-dress, with a tallow candle in her hand, and gazed at them tenderly. That horrible dream had stirred the fountain of love in her heart They made a beautiful picture, and there was no stain of evil in their young faces. It seems as if the angel of Sleep flies away with loads of naughtiness, for he always leaves sleeping children looking very innocent. But, alas! he brings back next morning all he carried away, for the little ones wake up with just as bad hearts as ever. "What sweet little creeters!" said Mrs. Rosenberg, bending over and kissing them both; "just like seraphims right out of the clouds."