One afternoon just before tea, while Meg was changing little Fay's frock, he slipped across to the drawing-room where Auntie Jan was busy writing a letter. Joy! the guard was off the fire; he could sit on the rug and watch it undisturbed. He made no noise, but knelt down softly in front of it and stretched out his hands to the pleasant warmth. It was the sort of fire Tony liked to watch, red at the heart, with little curling flames that were mirrored in the tiled hearth. Jan looked up from her writing and saw him there, saw also that there was no guard, but, as little Fay had not yet come, thought Tony far too sensible to interfere with the fire in any way. She went on with her writing; then when she looked again something in the intentness of his attitude caused her to say: "Be sure you don't get too near the fire, Tony; it hurts badly to be burned." "Yes, Auntie Jan," Tony said meekly. She wrote a few lines more, looked up, and held her breath. It would have been an easy matter even then to dash across and put on the guard; but in a flash Jan realised that to let Tony burn himself a little at that moment might save a very bad accident later on. There was nothing in his clothes to catch alight. His woollen jersey fitted closely. Exactly as though he were going to pick a flower, with curved hand outstretched Tony tried to capture and hold one of the dancing flames. He drew his hand back very quickly, and Jan expected a loud outcry, but none came. He sat back on the hearth-rug and rocked his body to and fro, holding the burnt right hand with his left, but he did not utter a sound. "It does hurt, doesn't it?" said Jan. He started at the quiet voice and turned a little puckered face towards her. "Yes," he said, with a big sigh; "but I know now." "Come with me and I'll put something on it to make it hurt less," said Jan, and crossed to the door. "Hadn't we better," he said, rather breathlessly, "put that thing on for fear of Fay?" Jan carefully replaced the "thing" and took him to her room, where she bandaged the poor little hand with carron-oil and cotton-wool. The outer edge was scorched from little finger to wrist. She made no remark while she did it, and Tony leaned confidingly against her the while. "Is that better?" she asked, when she had fastened the final safety-pin in the bandage. There was one big tear on Tony's cheek. "It's nice and cool, that stuff. _Why_ does it hurt so, Auntie Jan? It looks so kind and pretty." "It is kind and pretty, only we mustn't go too near. Will you be sure and tell Fay how it can hurt?" "I'll _tell_ her," he promised, but he didn't seem to have much hope of the news acting as a deterrent. When at bed-time Jan announced that Tony could not possibly bathe Fay because he mustn't get his hand wet or disturb the dressing, she and Meg tremblingly awaited the awful fuss that seemed bound to follow.