Bubbles used to be fat, like you, Sparrow, but the last day or two he had got rather reduced.

Still he was fairly plump; at least, so thought the master, as he looked first at him, then at the fire, and then thought of the empty larder downstairs." It was too dark to see Jim Sparrow, but I could almost _hear_ him turn pale, so profound was the silence.
"The fire was a big one, a roaring one, and howled up the chimney as if it was hungry too.

Bubbles where he sat was close to it, in fact, his feet almost touched the bars.

The master sat a little behind Bubbles, and his arm rested on the back of Bubbles's chair.

`To-morrow,' thought the master, `he will be thinner, and next day only skin and bone.' Then he thought of the saying in the copy-books, `Never put off till to- morrow what you can do to-day.' He sprang to his feet, seized Bubbles by the head and feet--there was a shriek and a yell--and next moment the master was alone in the room, and the chimney was on fire!" At this last sentence the speaker, suiting the action to the word, had risen from his seat and suddenly pounced upon the unhappy Sparrow, who, already paralysed with terror, now fairly yelled and howled for mercy.
Fergus dropped him back gently into his chair, and resuming his own seat, continued-- "There is very little to add.