“There’s nobody home today. Don’t you know it’s Saturday, and Astrid said they were all going to the auction at Woodchuck hill.” Kit did not wait to hear any more. She sped to the house like a young deer and, with eyes quite as startled, she burst into the kitchen and called up the back stairs. “Mother, do you see that smoke over the Ames’s woods?” “Smoke,” echoed Mrs. Robbins’ voice. “Why, no, dear, I haven’t noticed any. Wait a minute, and I’ll see.” But Kit was by nature a joyous alarmist. She loved a new thrill, and in the daily monotony that smothered one in Gilead anything that promised an adventure came as a heaven sent relief. She flew up the stairs, stopping to call in at Helen’s door, and send a hail over the front banister to Jean and Carlota. Her father and mother were standing at the open window when she entered their room, and Mr. Robbins had his field glasses. “It is a fire, isn’t it, Dad?” Kit asked, eagerly, and even as she spoke there came the long, shrill blast of alarm on the Peckham mill whistle. There was no fire department of any kind for fourteen miles around. Nothing seemed to unite the little outlying communities of the hill country so much as the fire peril, but on this Saturday it happened that nearly all the available men had leisurely jaunted over to the Woodchuck Hill auction. This was one of the characteristics of Gilead, shunting its daily tasks when any diversion offered. “Oh, listen,” exclaimed Helen, who had hurried in also. “There’s the alarm bell ringing up at the church too. It must be a big one.” Even as she spoke the telephone bell rang downstairs, while Shad called from the front garden: “Fearful big fire just broke out between here and Ames’s. I’m going over with the mill boys to help fight it.” “Can I go too, Shad?” cried Joe eagerly. “I won’t be in the way, honest, I won’t.” “Go ’long, you stay here, an’ if you see that wing of smoke spreadin’ over this way, you hitch up, quick as you can, an’ drive the folks out of its reach.” Shad started off up the road with a shovel over one shoulder and a heavy mop over the other. Jean was at the telephone. It was Judge Ellis calling. “He’s worried over Cousin Roxy, Mother,” Jean called up the stairs. “Cynthy wanted her to come over to her place today to get some carpet rags, and Cousin Roxy drove over there about an hour ago. He says her place lies right in the path of the fire. Mrs. Gorham has gone away for the day to the auction with Ben, and the Judge will have to stay with Billie. He’s terribly anxious.” “Oh, Dad,” exclaimed Kit, “couldn’t I please, please, go over and stay with Billie, and let the Judge come up to the fire, if he wants to. I’m sure he’s just dying to. Not but what I’m sure Cousin Roxy can take care of herself. May I? Oh, you dear. Tell him I’m coming, Jean.” “Yes, you’re going,” said Helen, aggrievedly, “and you’ll ride Princess over there, and how on earth are the rest of us going to be rescued if the fire comes this way.”