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 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 XXXXX the west now , immensely rich , they say , and his attentions to Nellie are the town talk .
If after by from in into of that though with