CHAPTER XVII.
A HURLY-BURLY FIRE Although Mr.Harris had expressed himself satisfied with his couch in the music-room, yet as it was hard and narrow, his slumbers were not very profound, and at two o'clock in the morning he awoke from a light doze, and began to sniff in the darkness.
"I believe I smell fire," he said to himself.
He jumped up and ran into the hall, where he found the whole staircase was a charred and smouldering mass ready to break into flame at any moment.
Mr.Harris was a man of quick action, but he paused a moment to consider.
He couldn't go up the stairs, they were ready to give way at a touch.

He dared not open the front door, or, indeed, any door that might create a draught which would fan the stairs into a flame.
So he decided he must rouse the sleepers up-stairs, and then jump out of the music-room window and run to the tent to get the assistance of the two boys who were sleeping there.
Being a stranger in the house, he knew of no other stairway, and knew nothing of the servants or where they might be.
"Mr.Barlow,--fire! Mr.Barlow!" he screamed.

"Fire! Mr.Carleton, Fanny!" but no one answered.
At last Patty was wakened by his voice and ran out in the upper hall.

The draught of her opening door started the flames a little, and when she looked over the banister, it was into a well of fire.
Before she could say a word, Mr.Harris called up to her.

"Patty," he said, "keep your senses, and help all you can.