“Yes, my dear, two of them.  Lulu is a year or two younger than I take you to be, and Gracie is only seven.”

“Have you any boys?” inquired Walter.

“Yes, my little man; I have one.  We call him Max.  He is two years older than Lulu.”

“About as old as I am?” said Rosie half inquiringly.

“Yes; if you are eleven, as I suppose.”

“Yes, sir, I’m eleven and Walter’s five.”

“If they’re good children we’d like ’em to come here and play with us,” remarked Walter.

“I am afraid they are not always good,” the captain said with a smile and a half sigh.  “I am not with them enough to give them the teaching and training that doubtless you enjoy.”

“But why doesn’t their mamma do it?  Our mamma teaches us;” and the child’s eyes turned lovingly upon her as at that moment she entered the room.

The usual morning greetings were exchanged, and Walter’s question remained unanswered.

The gentlemen were out nearly all day, riding or driving; the ladies with them a part of the time.  The evening was enlivened with music and conversation, and all retired to rest at a seasonable hour; the two guests expecting to take leave of their hospitable entertainers the next morning.

Darkness and silence reigned for some hours, then the shining of a bright light into Donald’s eyes awoke him.

He sprang from his bed, rushed to the window, saw that a cottage not far away, which he had noticed in riding by, was in flames.  The next moment he had snatched up a few articles of clothing and was at the captain’s side shaking him vigorously.

“Up, Raymond! up, man!  There’s a fire and we’ll be needed to help put it out.”

“What is it? breakers ahead, do you say?’” muttered the captain, only half awake.

“Fire! fire!” repeated Keith.

“Fire? where?” and the captain sprang up, now wide awake, and began hurrying on his clothes.

“That cottage down the road.”

“That’s bad indeed; but not quite so bad as a vessel foundering or burning at sea.  Anybody else in the house awake?”

“I don’t know.  Yes, there!  I hear steps and voices.”

They hurried into the hall and down the stairs.  Mr. Dinsmore was in the lower hall giving directions to the men-servants, who were all collected there.

“Haste!  Solon, Tom, Dick—­all of you!” he was saying, “gather up all the large buckets about the house, ropes too and ladders, and follow me as fast as you can.  Ah, captain! and Donald too!  You have seen the fire, I suppose?  Will you come with me?  There’ll be work enough for us all no doubt.  We’ve no engine in this neighborhood.”

“Certainly, sir!”

“That’s the port we are bound for.”  And each catching up a bucket they all three set off at full speed in the direction of the burning house, several of the negroes following close at their heels.