"Your barge cabin's on fire.

Go quickly." The woman started to her feet, and put a big red hand to her waist, on the left side, where your heart seems to be when you are frightened or miserable.
"Reginald Horace!" she cried in a terrible voice; "my Reginald Horace!" "All right," said Bobbie, "if you mean the baby; got him out safe.

Dog, too." She had no breath for more, except, "Go on--it's all alight." Then she sank on the ale-house bench and tried to get that breath of relief after running which people call the 'second wind.' But she felt as though she would never breathe again.
Bill the Bargee rose slowly and heavily.

But his wife was a hundred yards up the road before he had quite understood what was the matter.
Phyllis, shivering by the canal side, had hardly heard the quick approaching feet before the woman had flung herself on the railing, rolled down the bank, and snatched the baby from her.
"Don't," said Phyllis, reproachfully; "I'd just got him to sleep." * * * * * * Bill came up later talking in a language with which the children were wholly unfamiliar.

He leaped on to the barge and dipped up pails of water.