Poor little Hoglah screamed and moaned terribly, and the thought of her being unbaptised came with a shock across Mrs Carbonel. However, she did not think the injuries looked fatal, and speaking gently to soothe the mother, as she saw the preparations for baking, she said, "I think we can give her a little ease, my dear, my dear." Tirzah was sobbing, screaming, and calling on her dear child, quite helpless at the moment, while Mary took the moaning child. Captain Carbonel, with his own knife (finding it more effective than the blunt old knife on the table), cut off the remains of the little garments which had become tinder, and then handed his wife the flour in a sort of scoop, and as she sprinkled it over the burnt surface, the shrieks and moans abated and gradually died away, the child muttered, "Nice, nice," and another word or two, which her mother understood as asking for something to drink. Beer, to Mary's dismay, was the only thing at hand, but after a sup of that, the little thing's black eyes closed, and she said something of "Mammy," and "Bye, bye." The great old cradle stood by, still used, though the child was three years old, and Mrs Carbonel laid her carefully in it. "I think she will get well," said she to the mother, "only you must not let the flour be disturbed on any account." She had arranged handkerchiefs, her own, and a red one of Tirzah's, to cover the dressing. "I will send you some milk, and don't let the coverings be disturbed. Let her lie; only give her milk when she wants it, and I will come to see her to-morrow." Tirzah was sobbing quietly now, but she got out a choked question as to whether the child could get well. "Oh yes; no fear of that, if you let the flour alone, as Mrs Carbonel tells you," said the captain. "Oh, oh! if it wasn't for you--" the mother began. But Edmund wanted to get his wife away before there was a scene, and cut it short with, "There, there! We'll come again. Only let her alone, and don't meddle with the flour." Tirzah did what no native of Uphill would have thought of. She clasped Mrs Carbonel's hand, threw herself on her knees, and kissed it. "Thank God, not me," said Mary, much moved. "But you will give her to God now, and let her be baptised. I think she will live, but it ought to be as God's child." When the curate came in a little later, to hear how the child was, Tirzah allowed him to baptize her privately. It might partly have been the dread of missing the Burial Service, but far more because in this present mood she was ready to do anything for madam. Even when the neighbours thronged in, and Mrs Spurrell wanted to take the child up, pull off the flour, and anoint her with oil and spirit, she would not hear of it. "They as saved her shall have their will of her," said she. "Saved her! She'll sleep herself off to death! What's the good of simple stuff like that, with no sting nor bite in it?" said Nanny Barton.