Every moment was precious.

She meant to save what lives she could, for Polly was strictly conscientious.

She took the nearly frantic Dotty into the china closet, dragging her like a sack of meal, and turned the key.
"Stay there, child, if you know when you're well off," whispered she through the keyhole.

"The house is blowing up.

I'm going to call Abner." In her consternation Polly had not reflected that Dotty was as likely to be blown up in the closet as anywhere else.