The second was half-way up, and had been drenched by error, when Scotter reappeared at the top window. He had the baby in a shawl that was tied at his neck; in the left arm he carried a limp little girl; the crowd in the street roared “Hip-pip—hooray!” and Mrs. Mather cried warningly, “Don’t stay up there; come down!” “That makes your little lot complete, then,” remarked the Superintendent. “They’re all here now,” conceded the lady. “How I come to overlook the fact that there was one short is more than I can tell you. I’m sure it’s very kind of this gentleman. When baby’s old enough he must thank him.” “You all right, Scotter?” “Yes, thank you, sir. Bit singed, but nothing to brag about.” The crowd lost all its good spirits so soon as the first engine was sent home, and folk told each other regretfully that there were no fires now as in the old days. The waiting horses had recovered breath and began to caper about to impress the crowd with a sense of their importance. People to whom news had come tardily ran up from Clerkenwell Road demanding to know the whereabouts of the fire, and, being told it was out, censured the County Council, their informants, and themselves. Two firemen were selected to remain in charge; the others, dusting knees and rubbing knuckles into eyes, waited for orders. “Get off back, you lot. Scotter, you did uncommonly well. Just given your name to some newspaper men. Married man? Not yet? I was going to say, if you were, your missus would be proud of you.” The pace was good on the return journey, but not frantic, and Scotter was told by a dozen experts what to do to the burn on his left wrist. At the station they assisted him in the task of washing, and made a neat bandage; over cups of tea they went through the details of the fire, and extinguished it again. A move was made to the billiard-room. “Spot white’s turn,” announced one, taking up position at the marking-board. “Plain white and the red both in baulk.” Glancing at the pegs, “Twenty-three plays forty-eight.” “You’ve got to buck up, Scotter.” He took careful aim. Sent his ball against the right-hand cushion; it went from this to the top of the table, across to the left, travelled down, and dropped gently into the right-hand lower pocket. Three deducted from his score. “Don’t know what’s the matter with me,” said Scotter despairingly. “Somehow or other, I can’t do anything right to-day.” XII—MEANS OF TRANSPORT THE indignation meeting occurred without any of the printed entreaties usually found needful in order to induce the public to arouse. It seems less strange that only ladies attended, for the sex is notoriously beginning to take an interest in public questions.