r, and Temple and I made our way back
to the two girls: both of us lost our pocket-handkerchiefs, and Temple
a penknife as well. Then the engines arrived and soused the burning
houses. We were all in a crimson mist, boys smoking, girls laughing and
staring, men hallooing, hats and caps flying about, fights going on,
people throwing their furniture out of the windows. The great wall of
the Bench was awful in its reflection of the labouring flames--it rose
out of sight like the flame-tops till the columns of water brought them
down. I thought of my father, and of my watch. The two girls were not
visible. 'A glorious life a fireman's!' said Temple.

The firemen were on the roofs of the houses, handsome as Greek heroes,
and it really did look as if they were engaged in slaying an enormous
dragon, that hissed and tongued at them, and writhed its tail, paddling
its broken big red wings in the pit of wreck and smoke, twisting and
darkening-something fine to conquer, I felt with Temple.

A mutual disgust at the inconvenience created by the appropriation
of our pocket-handkerchiefs by members of the crowd, induced us
to disentangle ourselves from it without confiding to any one our
perplexity for supper and a bed. We were now extremely thirsty. I had
visions of my majority bottles of Burgundy, lying under John Thresher's
care at Dipwell, and would have abandoned them all for one on the spot.
After ranging about the outskirts of the crowd, seeking the two girls,
we walked away, not so melancholy but that a draught of porter would
have cheered us. Temple punned on the loss of my watch, and excused
himself for a joke neither of us had spirit to laugh at. Just as I was
saying, with a last glance at the fire, 'Anyhow, it would have gone in
that crowd,' the nice good girl ran up behind us, crying, 'There!' as
she put the watch-chain over my head.

'There, Temple,' said I, 'didn't I tell you so?' and Temple kindly
supposed so.

The girl said, 'I was afraid I'd missed you, little fellow, and you'd
take me for a thief, and thank God, I'm no thief yet. I rushed into the
crowd to meet you after you caught that old creature, and I could have
kissed you both, you're so brave.'

'We always go in for it together,' said Temple.

I made an offer to the girl of a piece of gold. 'Oh, I'm poor,' she
cried, yet kept her hand off it like a bird alighting on ground, not on
prey. When I compelled her to feel the money tight, she sighed, 'If I
wa