And we had left it,a smouldering flat heap.
'The clay must have caught alight,' H.O.said.

'Perhaps it's the kind that burns.

I know I've heard of fireclay.

And there's another sort you can eat.' 'Oh, shut up!' Dicky said with anxious scorn.
With one accord we turned back.

We all felt THE feeling--the one that means something fatal being up and it being your fault.
'Perhaps, Alice said, 'a beautiful young lady in a muslin dress was passing by, and a spark flew on to her, and now she is rolling in agony enveloped in flames.' We could not see the fire now, because of the corner of the wood, but we hoped Alice was mistaken.
But when we got in sight of the scene of our pottering industry we saw it was as bad nearly as Alice's wild dream.