"My God!" he muttered. "Too hot! Got to cool that down."
Then he saw the tank and the dangling hose, and remembered that he
had not filled the boiler. Taking down the hose, he opened the
watercock, stuck in the nozzle, and turned on the water full
force. Windows were broken across the street. Parts of the fire-
box, boiler, and fire flew everywhere. The walls blew out, the
roof lifted and came down, the fire raged among the new, dry
timbers of the mill.
When her windows blew in, Kate was thrown from her bed to the
floor. She lay stunned a second, then dragged herself up to look
across the street. There was nothing where the low white expanse
of roof had spread an hour before, while a red glare was creeping
everywhere over the ground. She ran to George's room and found it
empty. She ran to the kitchen, calling him, and found the back
door standing open. She rushed back to her room and began trying
to put on her dress over her nightrobe. She could not control her
shaking fingers, while at each step she cut her feet on broken
glass. She reached the front door as the children came screaming
with fright. In turning to warn them about the glass, she
stumbled on the top step, pitched forward headlong, then lay
still. The neighbours carried her back to her bed, called the
doctor, and then saved all the logs in the yard they could. The
following day, when the fire had burned itself out, the undertaker
hunted assiduously, but nothing could be found to justify a
funeral.