ready when he made his
request, so as not to cause delay.

"Are you going, Bert?" asked Nan, as from her room, next to that of her
brother, she heard him moving around.

"I am, if father will take me," he said.

"It's too cold for me!" Nan exclaimed with a shiver, as she went back
in bed again. She had gotten up to peer from the window at the red
glare in the sky.

From the third floor, where Dinah slept, the colored cook now called
down:

"Am anybody sick, Mrs. Bobbsey? What am de mattah down dere?"

"It's a fire, Dinah!" answered her mistress.

"Oh good land a'massy! Don't tell me dat!" she cried. "Sam! Sam! Wake
up. De house is on fire an' you'se got t' sabe me!"

"No, no, Dinah!" cried Mrs. Bobbsey, to calm the cook. "It isn't this
house. It's down by the lake. If you look out of your window you can
see it."

Dinah hurried across to her window, and evidently saw the reflection of
the blaze, for she exclaimed:

"Thank goodness it ain't yeah! Mah goodness, but I suah was skarit fo'
a minute!"

By this time Mr. Bobbsey had dressed, and had started downstairs. Bert
came out of his room, also ready for the street.

"May I come, father?" he asked.

"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Mr. Bobbsey, in surprise. "So you got
dressed too, did you?"

"Yes, sir. May I come?"

Mr. Bobbsey hesitated a moment, and then, with a smile, said:

"Well, I suppose so, since you are all ready. I'm taking Bert," he
called to his wife. "Freddie, you'll have to be the Fat Fireman while
I'm gone, and look after the house."

"That's what I will," said Freddie, "and if any sparks fly over here
I'll throw the bath room sponge on 'em!"

"Good!" cried Mr. Bobbsey, and then, he and Bert hurried out.

The fire was now larger, as they could see when they got out in the
street. There was no wind and the flames went straight up in the air.
There were not many buildings down by the lake, only some boat shelters
and places like that. The Bobbsey's boathouse was a fine large one,
having recently been made bigger as Mr. Bobbsey was thinking of buying
a new motor boat.

Mr. Bobbsey and his son hurried on, following the crowd that filled the
street leading to the lake. Several gentlemen knew the lumber
merchant, and called to him.

"I guess you're glad this isn't your lumber yard," said one.

"Yes, indeed," was the answer. "I had a little fire there once, and I
don't want another. But I'm afraid this is some of my pr