In a second I had raised it to 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 . Fortunately the fire had made little headway , though a few minutes more would have given it a dangerous start . The flames hissed and died out as Gussie threw on the water , and in a few seconds only a small black hole in the shingles remained . Gussie slid down the ladder . She trembled in every limb , but she put out her wet hand to me with a faint , triumphant smile . We shook hands across the ladder with a cordiality never before expressed . For the next week , in spite of Rev. Carroll , I was happy when I thought of Gussie and miserable when I thought of Nellie . I held myself in some way bound to her and -- was she not my ideal ? Undoubtedly ! One day I got a letter from my sister . It was long and newsy , and the eighth page was most interesting . `` If you do n't come home and look after Nellie , '' wrote Kate , `` you 'll soon not have her to look after . You remember that old lover of hers , Rod Allen ? Well , he 's home from the west now , immensely rich , they say , and his attentions to Nellie are the town talk . I think she likes him too . If you bury yourself any longer at Ashley Mills I wo n't be responsible for the consequences . '' This lifted an immense weight from my mind , but the ninth page hurled it back again . `` You never say anything of Miss Ashley in your letters . What is she like -- young or old , ugly or pretty , clever or dull ? I met a lady recently who knows her and thinks she is charming .
She also said Miss Ashley was XXXXX be married soon to Rev. Something-or-Other .
For If after from in of that though to with