“Wake up, Momsie!  There’s a real fire!  This house is on fire, and we’ve got to get out.  I can hear the fire engines!”

“Oh, Freddie! you’re walking in your sleep again,” said his mother as she sat up, now quite awake—­“You have been dreaming, and you’re walking in your sleep!”

Freddie had done this once or twice before, thought not since he had come to Washington.

“The excitement of going to Mount Vernon, and your ringing of the fire bell on the boat has made you dream of a fire, Freddie,” his mother went on.  “It isn’t real.  There isn’t any fire in this hotel, nor near here.  Go back to sleep.”

“But, Momsie, I’m awake now!” cried Freddie.  “And the fire is real!  I can see the red light and I can hear the engine puffin’!  Look, you can see the light!”

Freddie pointed to a window near his mother’s bed.  And, as she looked, she certainly saw a red, flickering light.  And then the heard the whistle which she knew came from a fire engine.  It was not like a locomotive whistle, and, besides, there were no trains near the hotel!

“Oh, it is a fire!” cried Mrs. Bobbsey.  “Freddie, call your father!”

Mr. Bobbsey slept in the next room with Bert, while Nan had a little bed chamber next to her mother’s, on the other side of the bath room.

But there was no need to call Mr. Bobbsey.  In his big, warm bath robe he now came stalking into his wife’s room.

“Don’t be frightened,” he said.  “There’s a small fire in the building next to this hotel.  But it is almost out, and there is no danger.  Stay right in bed.”

“But it’s a real fire, isn’t it, Daddy?” cried Freddie.  “I heard the engines puffin’, and I saw the red light and it woke me up and I comed in and telled Momsie; and it’s a real fire, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Freddie, it’s a real fire all right,” said Mr. Bobbsey.  “But don’t talk so loud, nor get excited.  You may awaken the people in the other rooms around us, and there is no need.  I was talking to the night clerk of the hotel over the telephone from my room, and he says there is no danger.  There is a big brick wall between our hotel and the place next door, which is on fire.  The blaze can’t get through that.”

“Can’t I look out the window and see the engines?” Freddie wanted to know.

“Yes, I guess it would be too bad not to let you see them, as long as they are here, and it’s a real fire,” answered Mrs. Bobbsey.  “I hope no one was hurt next door,” she added to her husband.

“I think not,” he replied.  “The fire is only a small one.  It is almost out.”

So Freddie had his dearest wish come true in the middle of the night—­he saw some real fire engines puffing away, spouting sparks and smoke, and pumping water on a real fire.  Of course the little boy could not see the water spurting from the hose, as that was happening inside the burning building.  But Freddie could see some of the firemen at work, and he could see the engines shining in the light from the fire and the glare of the electric lamps.  So he was satisfied.