Nor was the disconsolate matron the only one who lamented her losses.
Sarah Batts, with clasped hands and distracted aspect, wept for the
destruction of her "box."
"There was money in it," she cried, "money! Oh, don't you think the men
could get to my room and save it?"
"Money!" exclaimed Mrs. Tadman, sharply, aroused from the contemplation
of her own woes by this avowal; "you must be cleverer than I took you
for, Sarah Batts, to be able to save money, and yet be always bedizened
with some new bit of finery, as you've been."
"It was give to me," Sarah answered indignantly, "by them as had a right
to give it."
"For no good, I should think," replied Mrs. Tadman; "what should anybody
give you money for?"
"Never you mind; it was mine. O dear, O dear! if one of the men would
only get my box for me."
She ran to intercept one of the farm-labourers, armed with his bucket,
and tried to bribe him by the promise of five shillings as a reward for
the rescue of her treasures. But the man only threatened to heave the
bucket of water at her if she got in his way; and Miss Batts was obliged
to abandon this hope.
The fire made rapid progress meanwhile, unchecked by that ineffectual
splashing of water. It had begun at the eastern end of the building, the
end most remote from those disused rooms in the ivy-covered west wing;
but the wind was blowing from the north-east, and the flames were
spreading rapidly towards that western angle.
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