"I was dreadfully
frightened, when you came plunging down through that smoke. I was just
trying to make my way through it with a bucket, when you came toppling
down the stairs. I managed to catch you and support you into the kitchen."
"I think some one else is the bravest," smiled Peggy, patting her chum's
shoulder. "I'm so glad that the baby wasn't hurt. Poor little thing, it
looked so cute in its crib. I remember seizing it up and then the smoke
came, and after a few minutes it all got black and----"
"And all's well that ends well," declared Jimsy, capering about. "We've
telephoned to your home to Roy, Peggy, and he'll be over in a short time
with an auto."
"But what about the _Butterfly_?" asked Peggy.
"My dear girl," announced Jimsy, in his most pompous tones, "it would be
impossible for you to guide her home this evening. Your nerves would not
stand it. See, it's come out quite fine, now, after the storm, and Roy
will spin you home in the machine in no time."
"Perhaps that would be best," agreed Peggy. "And I can come out, or Roy
can, to-morrow, and get the aeroplane--that is," she added, turning to
the farm woman, "if it won't be in your way."
"If you had a thousand of them air-buggies around here, miss, they
wouldn't be in our way," came in a hearty, gruff tone from the door.
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