Captain Carbonel stormed at George when he failed to understand directions, or cut a bit of wood to waste; but without loss of confidence, and before long, Master Hewlett came to accept it as the captain's way, and to trust him as a really kind and liberal employer. And, unluckily, he did not always heed the rating so loudly given, or rather he did not set his mind to comprehend what lay a little out of his usual beat, and thus gave additional provocation, though still Captain Carbonel bore with him, and would not have rejected him in favour of the far smarter carpenter at Downhill, on any of these provocations. Dan, who was a much sharper fellow, could have helped a great deal, but his back was up at the first word, and he would do nothing but sulk. Moreover, George himself detected him doing away with some wood out of that which was to make Farmer Goodenough's farm gates, under colour that it was a remnant only fit for firewood. Having already announced that he would never again employ his cousin after another of these peculations, he kept to his word, and in spite of Molly's tears and abuse, and Dan's deeper objurgations, he persisted. Daniel tried to get work at Downhill, but all the time declared that them Gobblealls was at the bottom of it, having a spite at him. Just at this time Captain Carbonel was driving the phaeton, with his wife in it, home from Elchester; when, just as they were passing Todd's house, a terrible scream was heard. Shrieks that did not mean naughtiness but agony; and a flame was visible within the door. In one moment the captain was over the wicket, past the lurcher, dragging with him his great old military cloak, which had been over Mary's knees. Another second, and he had wrapped little Hoglah in it from top to toe, stifling the flames by throwing her down and holding her tight, while her mother came flying in from the garden; and Mary, throwing the reins of the horse to the servant, hurried in. Tirzah was screaming and sobbing. "My child! My dear! Oh, Hoggie! Hoggie! Is she dead! Oh!" "No, no; I think not," said the captain. And, indeed, no sooner did he begin to unroll her than cries broke out, very sufficient answer as to the child's being alive, and as her mother vehemently clasped her they grew more agonising. "Let me see how much she is burnt," said Mrs Carbonel. "You had better not squeeze her. It makes it worse." The child's poor little neck and bosom proved to have been sadly burnt. Her mother had been heating the oven, and had gone out to fetch fresh faggots, when the little one, trying in baby-fashion to imitate the proceedings, had set her pinafore on fire. Many more children were thus destroyed than now, when they do not wear so much cotton, nor such long frocks and pinafores.