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It was, therefore, with some doubt that Elizabeth Eliza proposed sending a telegram to her father. Mrs. Peterkin, however, was pleased with the idea. Solomon John was out, and the little boys were at school, and she herself would touch the knob, while Elizabeth Eliza should write the telegram.

“I think it is the fourth knob from the beginning,” she said, looking at one of the rows of knobs.

Elizabeth Eliza was sure of this. Agamemnon, she believed, had put three extra knobs at each end.

“But which is the end, and which is the beginning,–the top or the bottom?” Mrs. Peterkin asked hopelessly.

Still she bravely selected a knob, and Elizabeth Eliza hastened with her to look out for the messenger. How soon should they see the telegraph boy?

They seemed to have scarcely reached the window, when a terrible noise was heard, and down the shady street the white horses of the fire-brigade were seen rushing at a fatal speed!

It was a terrific moment!

“I have touched the fire-alarm,” Mrs. Peterkin exclaimed.

Both rushed to open the front door in agony. By this time the fire-engines were approaching.

“Do not be alarmed,” said the chief engineer; “the furniture shall be carefully covered, and we will move all that is necessary.”

“Move again!” exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin, in agony.

Elizabeth Eliza strove to explain that she was only sending a telegram to her father, who was in Boston.

“It is not important,” said the head engineer; “the fire will all be out before it could reach him.”

And he ran upstairs, for the engines were beginning to play upon the roof.

Mrs. Peterkin rushed to the knobs again hurriedly; there was more necessity for summoning Mr. Peterkin home.

“Write a telegram to your father,” she said to Elizabeth Eliza, “to ‘come home directly.'”

“That will take but three words,” said Elizabeth Eliza, with presence of mind, “and we need ten. I was just trying to make them out.”

“What has come now?” exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin, and they hurried again to the window, to see a row of carriages coming down the street.

“I must have touched the carriage-knob,” cried Mrs. Peterkin, “and I pushed it half-a-dozen times I felt so anxious!”

Six hacks stood before the door. All the village boys were assembling. Even their own little boys had returned from school, and were showing the firemen the way to the well.

Again Mrs. Peterkin rushed to the knobs, and a fearful sound arose. She had touched the burglar-alarm!

The former owner of the house, who had a great fear of burglars, had invented a machine of his own, which he had connected with a knob. A wire attached to the knob moved a spring that could put in motion a number of watchmen’s rattles, hidden under the eaves of the piazza.

All these were now set a-going, and their terrible din roused those of the neighborhood who had not before assembled around the house. At this moment Elizabeth Eliza met the chief engineer.

“You need not send for more help,” he said; “we have all the engines in town here, and have stirred up all the towns in the neighborhood; there’s no use in springing any more alarms. I can’t find the fire yet, but we have water pouring all over the house.”

Elizabeth Eliza waved her telegram in the air.

“We are only trying to send a telegram to my father and brother, who are in town,” she endeavored to explain.

“If it is necessary,” said the chief engineer, “you might send it down in one of the hackney carriages. I see a number standing before the door. We’d better begin to move the heavier furniture, and some of you women might fill the carriages with smaller things.”

Mrs. Peterkin was ready to fall into hysterics. She controlled herself with a supreme power, and hastened to touch another knob.

Elizabeth Eliza corrected her telegram, and decided to take the advice of the chief engineer and went to the door to give her message to one of the hackmen, when she saw a telegraph boy appear. Her mother had touched the right knob. It was the fourth from the beginning; but the beginning was at the other end!