house was on fire; and her eyes watered so, she really could not see to fasten mylady's hooks and eyes, and mylady's gown was all awry at last.
"But is the house on fire?" said Blanche, half laughing, "because if it is, we may as well make our escape."
"No," said Aileen, who had just run up stairs, "it is not on fire, but something has gone radically wrong with the kitchen flue, the smoke keeps pouring into the house, instead of going up the chimney, like well-behaved smoke; even the drawing rooms are quite untenable."
"And my room gets worse every moment. We must take refuge in the summer-house, Aileen,"
"But it is raining, and your cold?"
"Oh, that is not much, and anything is better than this. Give me heaps of shawls, Justine, and then we will rush into the drawing-room, and save our beloved Aunt Sarah, and carry her off to our wretched little asylum in the garden. Where are my letters? we
