"If all the world were apple-pie, and all the sea were ink, and all the trees were bread and cheese, what should we have to drink?" was my not irrelevant thought. In strict accordance, however, with the character for sagacity that Mrs. Horton had just given me, I said nothing; but Mrs. Horton assented to the proposition with energy enough for both. Ralph was giving unmistakable signs of sleepiness. Mrs. Horton sat down and took him on her lap; the small head drooped on her shoulder while she went on to the creaking accompaniment of the old rocking chair. "I've just thought of another way in which that fire might have been started"--she evidently had it upon her conscience to furnish a satisfactory solution of the mystery--"I have been noticing that you keep matches in that china saucer over the mantel-piece, and it's right alongside the window-sill. Now, girls, I don't want to seem to find fault with any of your arrangements; but I do like an iron match safe, with a heavy lid, better myself; then there's no danger of their getting out, and you can't be too careful about such things. Suppose, now, that one of those mountain rats that are always prying around, getting into every crack and crevice that they can wedge themselves into--suppose one of them had come into the house, and crept out again with a lot of matches--they'll eat anything--and suppose that rat went through the rubbish pile and rubbed against--" But this line of reasoning proved too much for Jessie, who, with good cause, prided herself upon her housekeeping. "There isn't a hole big enough for a rat to crawl through in the house!" she declared, with some warmth. The rooms were all lathed and plastered. Mrs. Horton looked around. "One might come in at a window," she suggested, with less confidence. Knowing the truth, and having in my possession the means of proving it, if need be, I took a somewhat wicked pleasure in this game of wild conjecture. It was, at all events, a satisfaction to be able to veto this last proposition. "There were only two windows open, Mrs. Horton, and they were open only a few inches at the top," I said. "A rat might climb up the side of the window, and come in that way," was the reply to this. "But"--her face suddenly brightening as a new solution of the mystery flashed upon her mind--"I don't think it was a rat, after all, and I'll warrant I know now just how it happened. Last night was Wednesday night, you know, and they always have those dancing-parties out at Morley's tavern, beyond the Eastern Slope, of a Wednesday night. Lots of those Crusoe miners go to them, and they all smoke. Now what'll you chance that as one of them was coming home--they have to go right past here--he didn't light a match for his cigar, and when he was through with it, fling the match right down against the house, or, maybe, he threw the stub of a cigar down?"