'It isn't the house,' said Oswald; 'but it jolly soon will be!'
'Oh, my pore Lily!' said the woman. 'With this 'ere wind the house'll be alight in a minute. And her abed in there! Where's Honeysett?'
'There's no one here but us. The house is locked up,' we said.
'Yes, I know, 'cause of tramps. Honeysett's got the key. I comes in as soon as I've cleared dinner away. She's ill a-bed, sleeping like a lamb, I'll be bound, all unknowing of her burning end.'
'We must get her out,' said Oswald.
But the woman didn't seem to know what to do. She kept on saying, 'Where's Honeysett? Oh, drat him! where's that Honeysett?'
So then Oswald felt it was the time to be a general, like he always meant to if he got the chance. He said, 'Come on!' and he took a stone and broke the kitchen window, and put his hand through the jagged hole and unfastened the catch, and climbed in. The back-door was locked and the key gone, but the front-door was only bolted inside. But it stuck very tight, from having been painted and shut before the paint was dry, and never opened again.
