Seems as if he lit like Mercury just when there wasn't anything happening here at all." "Wonder if I turned out that oil stove," Mrs.Gorham said thoughtfully.
"Seems like I smell something.

Shad," raising her voice, "do you get up and go out in that 'ell' room and see if I turned out that fire under the syrup.

I smell smoke." "Oh, Lord," groaned Shad, laying aside his cherished instrument.

"You could smell ice if you half tried." He got up lumberingly and sauntered out through the kitchen into the long lean-to addition, that was used as a summer kitchen now, and the moment he opened the door there poured out a thick volume of black smoke and flying soot.

The old-fashioned oil stove had a way of letting its wicks "work up," as Shad said, if left too long to its own devices.
There was a spurt of flame from the woodwork behind the stove, and Shad slammed the door to, and ran for the water bucket.
It seemed incredible how fast the flames spread.