n, who was the only person in the burning
part of the house, was brought in safety to the ground.

In the midst of the shouting, eager crowd Sue stood, forgetting herself,
as perhaps every one else there did also, in such intense excitement.
Scarcely, however, had the rescued man reached the ground when she felt
herself violently pulled from behind--indeed, not only pulled, but
dragged so strongly that she almost lost her feet. She attempted to
scream, but a hand was instantly placed over her mouth, and she found
herself running helplessly, and against her will, down a narrow passage
which flanked one side of the burning house; beyond this into a small
backyard; then through another house into another yard; and so on until
she entered a small, very dirty room. This room was full of unknown
condiments in jars and pots, some queer stuffed figures in
fancy-dresses, some wigs and curls of false hair, and several masks,
false noses, etc., etc. Sue, entering this room, was pushed instantly
into a large arm-chair, whereupon her captor came and stood before her.
He was a lad of about her own size, and perhaps a year or two younger.
He had a round, freckled face, the lightest blue eyes, and the reddest,
most upright shock of hair she had ever seen. He put his arms akimbo and
gazed hard at Sue, and so motionless became his perfectly round orbs
that Sue thought he had been turned into stone. Suddenly, however, he
winked, and said in a shrill, cheerful tone:

"Well, then, plucky 'un, 'ow does yer find yerself now?"

Not any number of shocks could quite deprive Sue of her common-sense.
She had not an idea of what had become of her. Was this another and a
rougher way of taking her to the lock-up? Was this queer boy friend or
foe?

"Be yer agen me, boy?" she said.

"Agen yer! Well, the ingratitude! Ha'n't I jest rescued yer from the
hands o' that 'ere nipper?"

"Oh!" exclaimed Sue; and the relieved tension of her poor, terrified
little heart found vent in two big tears which rose to her eyes.

The red-haired boy balanced himself on one toe in order to survey those
tears more carefully.

"Well," he said at length, in a tone in which there was a ludicrous
mingling of wonder and contempt--"well, ye're a queer un fur a plucky
un--a wery queer un. Crying! My eyes! Ain't yer hin luck not to be in
prison, and ain't that a subject for rejoicing? I don't cry when I'm in
luck; but then, thank goodness! I'm not a gel. Lor'! they're quee