I am myself , Augusta Ashley , and accountable to nobody but myself if I choose to go down the well every day for pure love of it . '' She walked off in her wet dress with her muddy cat . Gussie Ashley was the only girl I ever saw who could be dignified under such circumstances . I was in a very bad humour with myself as I went off to see about having the well cleaned out . I had offended Gussie and I knew she would not be easily appeased . Nor was she . For a week she kept me politely , studiously , at a distance , in spite of my most humble advances . Rev. Carroll was a frequent caller , ostensibly to make arrangements about a Sunday school they were organizing in a poor part of the community . Gussie and he held long conversations on this enthralling subject . Then Gussie went on another visit to her friend , and when she came back so did Rev. Carroll . One calm , hazy afternoon I was coming slowly up from the mills . Happening to glance at the kitchen roof , I gasped . It was on fire in one place . Evidently the dry shingles had caught fire from a spark . There was not a soul about save Gussie , Aunt Lucy , and myself . I dashed wildly into the kitchen , where Gussie was peeling apples . `` The house is on fire , '' I exclaimed . Gussie dropped her knife and turned pale . `` Do n't wake Mother , '' was all she said , as she snatched a bucket of water from the table . The ladder was still lying by the well .
In a second I had raised it XXXXX the roof and , while Gussie went up it like a squirrel and dashed the water on the flames , I had two more buckets ready for her .
For about at by from in into to under with