Well, resumed Molly, ignoring her brother’s threatening glances; as soon as we turned the corner, coming home, we noticed a most awful smell. It grew worse, the nearer we came to the house; and then we saw the kitchen door wide open, and the smoke just pouring out in streams. Molly’s metaphors were becoming mixed, but the girls never minded that, as she continued, Mamma was dreadfully frightened, for she thought the house was on fire. We rushed in, and there was the meat frizzling away on the stove, and Alan so excited that he was just hopping up and down and crying, and letting it burn away, because he didn’t dare take it off. It was more than a week before the smoke was out of the house.