Part 3 (1/2)

Slow and Sure Horatio Alger 24440K 2022-07-22

”When were you home, Paul?” he asked abruptly.

”Two or three hours since. I have just come from Barnum's.”

”Then you don't know what's happened?”

Paul turned instantly.

”No. What is it?”

”Your house has caught fire, and is burning down. The engines are there, but I don't think they can save it.”

”Let us hurry home, brother,” said Paul. ”It's lucky I've got my bank-book with me, so if we are burned out, we can get another home at once.”

Excited by this startling intelligence, they quickened their steps, and soon stood in front of the burning building.

CHAPTER III.

THE BURNING OF THE TENEMENT HOUSE.

The scene was an exciting one. The occupants of the large tenement house had vacated their rooms in alarm, each bearing what first came to hand, and reinforced by a numerous crowd of outsiders, were gazing in dismay at the sudden conflagration which threatened to make them homeless.

”Och hone! och hone! that iver I should see the day!” exclaimed a poor Irish woman, wringing her hands. ”It's ruined intirely I am by the fire. Is that you, Mrs. Hoffman, and Paul? Indade it's a sad day for the likes of us.”

”It is indeed, Mrs. McGowan. Do you know how the fire caught?”

”It's all along of that drunken brute, Jim O'Connel. He was smokin' in bed, bad luck to him, as drunk as a baste, and the burnin' tobacker fell out on the shates, and set the bed on fire.”

”Cheer up, Mrs. McGowan!” said the hearty voice of Mrs. Donovan. ”We ain't burnt up ourselves, and that's a comfort.”

”I've lost all my money,” said Mrs. McGowan disconsolately. ”I had twenty-siven dollars and thirty cents in the bank, and the bank-book's burnt up, och hone!”

”You can get your money for all that, Mrs. McGowan,” said Paul. ”Just tell them at the savings-bank how you lost your book, and they will give you another.”

”Do you think so?” asked Mrs. McGowan doubtfully.

”I feel sure of it.”

”Then that's something,” said she, looking considerably relieved.

”Whin can I get it?”

”I will go with you to the bank to-morrow.”

”Thank you, Paul. And it's you that's a fine lad intirely.”

”All my pictures will burn up,” said Jimmy.

”You can draw some new ones,” said Paul. ”I am afraid, mother, you will never wear that new dress of yours.”

”It's a pity I bought it just at this time.”