Miss Abbey had twice made the experiment of shutting her eyes and opening them again, still finding the figures there, when, dreamlike, a confused hubbub arose in the public room. As she started up, and they all three looked at one another, it became a noise of clamouring voices and of the stir of feet; then all the windows were heard to be hastily thrown up, and shouts and cries came floating into the house from the river. A moment more, and Bob Gliddery came clattering along the passage, with the noise of all the nails in his boots condensed into every separate nail.

“What is it?” asked Miss Abbey.

“It’s summut run down in the fog, ma’am,” answered Bob. “There’s ever so many people in the river.”

“Tell ’em to put on all the kettles!” cried Miss Abbey. “See that the boiler’s full. Get a bath out. Hang some blankets to the fire. Heat some stone bottles. Have your senses about you, you girls downstairs, and use ’em.”