And then I think you'd better fetch the iron.

Here's the holder." "Oh! Polly dear! It is such fun!" I cried; but as I drew near to the fireplace the words died away on my lips.

My flat iron was gone.
At first I thought it had fallen on to the hearth; but looking nearer I saw a blob or button of lead upon the bar of the grate.

There was no resisting the conviction which forced itself upon me: my flat iron was melted.
Polly was much distressed.

Doubly so because she had been the cause of the misfortune.