"Dead, dear?" Bert asked, after awhile. Nancy sighed contentedly
before she answered:
"Tired, of course--a little!"
"Well," summarized Bert, after another pause, "we have now reduced
our problem somewhat. A man, his wife, his children. There we
are!"
"A roof above his head, a maid-servant, and all the Sunday meals
in the house!" Nancy added optimistically.
"A barn roof," amended Bert.
"Barns have sheltered babies before this," Nancy reflected
whimsically. Again she sighed. "I suppose babies do burn to death,
sometimes, Bert? One sees it in the paper; just a line or two. I
remember--"
"Don't let your mind dwell on that side of it, Nance. For that
matter a brick might fall off the roof on our heads now."
"Yes, I know. But Priscilla was my responsibility, and I was a
mile away."
"You'll be a mile away from her many a time and oft," Bert
reminded her wholesomely.
"When I have to be," she conceded, slowly. "But to-day--" Her
voice sank, and Bert, glancing sidewise at her, saw that her face
was very thoughtful. "Bert," she said, "we have a good deal to be
thankful for."
"Everything in the world!"
Chapter Thirty-eight
Another silence.
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