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“No, you mustn’t!” Arnold said. “Your dress might catch on fire!”

The piece of paper was burning on the wide brick hearth of the fireplace, and not on the carpet, and the Lamb was close to the piece of paper that was on fire. Altogether too close to the fire was the Lamb. She was in great danger.

“But I’ve got to save her! I must save my pet Lamb!” cried Mirabell. She was going to rush forward, but her brother caught hold of her and held her back.

“Wait!” cried Arnold. “I can put out the fire and save your Lamb.”

“How!”

“With my fire engine! It has real water in it, and I’ll pump some on the paper and save your Lamb from burning up. Watch me, Mirabell, but don’t go near the blaze!”

The piece of paper, close to the Lamb on Wheels, was now sending up a bright blaze. It would have been pretty if it had not been so dangerous.

Arnold quickly wheeled his fire engine as close to the blazing paper as he felt it was safe to go. The engine had a little pump on it, as I have told you, and it spurted out real water, with which it was now filled.

“Toot! Toot! I’m a fireman, and I’m going to put out a real fire!” cried Arnold.

He pressed back the little catch that held the pump from working. There was a whirring sound as the wheels spun around, and then the little rubber hose on the pump of the engine filled with water.

A moment later a small stream spurted out, and Arnold aimed it right for the piece of blazing paper. The water fell in a small shower on the fire, and then with a hiss and spluttering, and sending up a cloud of smoke, the paper stopped burning.

“Toot! Toot! The fire is out!” cried the boy, making believe blow his engine whistle. “Now your Lamb is saved, Mirabell.”

“Oh, I’m so glad! Thank you, Arnold!” exclaimed his sister.

She ran forward and picked up her Lamb on Wheels. And, I am glad to say, the wool was not even scorched, not the least, tiny bit.

“Oh, she’s all right! She’s all right! My Lamb isn’t hurt a bit, Arnold,” cried Mirabell.

“I told you I’d save her,” said the boy. “But you mustn’t ever run near a fire yourself, Mirabell. Wait for me to put it out with my engine. That’s what fire engines and fire departments are for.”

“Dear me! that came near being a terrible adventure for me,” thought the Lamb on Wheels, as Mirabell carried her back from the fireplace. “In another minute I would have been all ablaze from that paper, and wool does burn so fast!”

When the Lamb had been saved, the mother of the two children came into the sitting room.

“What is burning?” she cried. “Have you been playing with fire?”

“No, Mother,” answered Arnold, and he told what had happened.

As the days passed Mirabell came to love her Lamb on Wheels more and more. Sometimes the little girl would tie a string to the wooden platform, on which her toy stood, and pull the Lamb around the house, as Arnold used to pull his little express wagon.

“I like to ride that way,” thought the Lamb. “It is much more fun than it would be to be crowded into a Noah’s Ark like the Wooden Lion and thrown into the flooded bathtub.”

The Lamb was wishing Mirabell would take her next door, to see the Sawdust Doll, but, as it happened, Dorothy was ill, and it was not thought best for Mirabell to go in for a few days. However, Mirabell could look from her windows over to those in the house where Dick and Dorothy lived. And though Dorothy was too ill to be out of bed, Dick was not.

Dick would stand at the window in his house, and Mirabell and Arnold would stand at the window in their front room, and look across. The children waved to one another, and Dick would hold up the head of his Rocking Horse for Mirabell and Arnold to see.