“I know; I have seen you come in and out. In fact, you passed us to-day. But still you have saved the whole house, and I thank you very, very much!” “How did it all happen?” he asked, removing for the first time his white slouch hat and disclosing a shock of brown curly hair. “The candle-shade on the desk; do you see? It must have caught fire and toppled over on to the curtains. I was sitting here and forgot I had left the candles alight; and then I smelled something burning and saw the curtains in a blaze. Then I ran out to call somebody.” “That was very stupid,” said Kent, pushing back the desk from the middle of the room, where he had wheeled it; “by opening the door you made the things burn quicker. All you had to do was to drag down the curtains and cover them with the hearthrug. And then it is very silly to use paper candle-shades. They are no good, and they are always causing accidents. I hope you are not going to get any more.” The assured paternal air with which Kent delivered himself of this little speech did away with its apparent rudeness. Clytie, who at first looked rather resentfully at her rebuker, laughed. They bent down together to restore order among the singed rugs. Beneath them was Kent's waterproof, on to which he had thrown the blazing curtains. It was very badly burned and of course rendered useless. “It is utterly ruined!” exclaimed Clytie, examining the holes with a helpless expression of regret on her face. And then her eyes suddenly fell upon a great ugly red splash upon his hand. He withdrew it hastily, but she caught the sleeve of his coat. The stuff came away between her fingers. “You have burned yourself horribly. Oh, what can I do?” “It's nothing,” said Kent. “It doesn't hurt. I'll go and put something on it. Please don't trouble. Goodnight.” He moved towards the door, with his hat and burned waterproof in his hand. But Clytie could not let him leave in this way. The woman in her was moved. “Oh, please don't go until I have seen what harm you have got. I should feel so unhappy about it. I may be able to dress it for you--until you can see a doctor.” She spoke so sincerely, so frankly, and looked at him with such genuine concern, that he surrendered with a good grace. He came forward to the table where the big lamp was burning and put out his arm for her inspection. It was really injured, and was beginning to be exceedingly painful. “What can I do for it?” she asked rather helplessly. “Oh, some olive oil and a bit of rag will be the best.”