"Aren't you afraid to leave it?" said Peter.
"Lor love you, no," said the woman; "who'd hurt a little thing like 'im? Besides, Spot's there. So long!"
The woman went away.
"Shall we go home?" said Phyllis.
"You can. I'm going to fish," said Peter, briefly.
"I thought we came up here to talk about Perk's birthday," said Phyllis.
"Perk's birthday'll keep."
So they got down on the towing-path again, and Peter fished. He did not catch anything.
It was almost quite dark, the girls were getting tired, and, as Bobbie said, it was past bed-time, when suddenly Phyllis cried, "What's that?"
And she pointed to the canal-boat. Smoke was coming from the chimney of the cabin, had indeed been curling softly into the soft evening air all the time—but now other wreaths of smoke were rising, and these were from the cabin door.
"It's on fire—that's all,' said Peter, calmly. "Serve him right."
"Oh—how can you?" cried Phyllis. "Think of the poor dear dog."
"The Baby!" screamed Bobbie.
