on dark winter afternoons the effect
was most disturbing.

"I'm not afraid," Keith announced, sensing his own bravery rather
keenly.

"Why should you be," asked Granny.

Then he noticed the tall iron door fastened to one side of the arch in
front of it. Now it was doubled up length-wise and folded back so as to
leave the passage free.

"What's that for," he asked, pointing to the door.

"In case of fire," said Granny. "If it should begin to burn up there,
they would close that door to keep the flames from the rest of
the house."

"Would it burn much," Keith wondered.

"Your father has five cords of good birch wood stored in the top attic,
so I think the whole city would see the blaze."

"And the people up there?"

"They would have to come before we closed the doors, but God have mercy
on us if it ever gets that far. Remember, boy, there is nothing worse
than fire so you must always be careful never play with matches."

"I know," said Keith, nodding sagely.

But he really did not know what fire meant until a few nights later. The
whole family was sound asleep, Keith on the chaiselongue, his father and
mother in the big bed on the other side of the room. While still half
asleep he could hear his mother crying his father's name in a strangely
agitated voice.

Then he woke fully and looked up. Every object in the room was clearly
visible, but the light coming through the windows was not daylight. It
was reddish and glaring, and the very reflection of it within the room
filled the boy with vague uneasiness.

The father jumped out of bed and ran to the window.

"It is fire," he said. "Something terrible. My Lord, half the town must
be burning. The whole sky is a mass of flames. And it's in the direction
of the bank."

Suddenly he turned back and began to dress in wordless haste.

"Must we get out," asked the mother.

"No, it is not very close yet, but you had better get up and dress--and
get everybody dressed."

By that time he was putting on his overcoat.

"Where are you going, Carl," demanded the mother, evidently more scared
by his going out than by the fire.

"To the bank," answered the father, grimly.

"You mustn't, Carl! I won't let you go out! Think if anything should
happen to you!"

"Nonsense," he said. "I am in no danger--but I must see what's happening
to the bank, and help if things have to be taken out."

"Carl, Carl...." was all the mother could get over her lips.

"Don't worry,