Part 4 (1/2)

”She wants to get acquainted. I don't blame her. They 're the dullest lot over there. There seems to be one stirabout--the good-looking chap who 's off on horseback every day. But the other son 's a paleface, and the daughter--hum--well----” Peter's pause was eloquent. ”I think she's---- h.e.l.lo! What's that?”

He had looked over at the big house as he spoke of its inmates, and his eye had been caught by an appearance which struck him as unusual. The house was dimly lighted everywhere, but in one room, the upper one with the semicircular window, there was an effect of brilliancy of a ruddier color than is ordinarily produced by electric lights. As Peter and Jane now stared at it, it seemed to grow in intensity, and there showed a wavering and flas.h.i.+ng of this singular light which looked suspiciously like fire.

”Do you suppose there can be anything wrong?” speculated Peter, anxiously. ”Of course a fire of c.o.ke or cannel in a fireplace might give that effect, through those thin curtains, but we--haven't seen--anything like it--before--and--By George!” as the light flared more ruddily than ever for an instant and then grew dull again, ”I believe there _is_ trouble there! Anyhow, I 'll run over and find out!

They can't blame me for that.”

He was starting off at a run when Jane darted after him. ”I 'm sure I saw flames jump up, Pete!” she called, excitedly. ”The window's open, and the curtain blew to one side. Oh, hurry! Most of them are away; I saw them drive off an hour ago.”

She was running at Peter's side, fleet of foot as he. Her mind had leaped to the youngest member of the unknown household, the one who did not drive away after nightfall to dinners and parties, like the others.

Only that day she had met s.h.i.+rley and exchanged with her the few bright words the little girl seemed to welcome so eagerly. They ran up the steps of the great portico, with its stately columns, and hurrying across it, came to a partly opened door. Peter rang the bell, peering impatiently through the vestibule into the large, square, half-lighted interior. ”I 'll wait just one minute for an answer,” he said with his foot on the threshold, ”and then I 'll be up that gorgeous staircase back there.”

Jane put her head in at the door. ”I smell smoke!” she breathed, and Peter pushed past her. Delaying no longer, he ran across the hall and up the staircase, closely followed by Jane.

As he reached the top, a little white-clad figure ran screaming toward him. He rushed by, but Jane, at his heels, caught the little girl up in her arms.

”There, there, darling,” she soothed the frightened, sobbing child, ”you 're all safe! Peter will take care of the fire. Are they all away?

There, don't be frightened, dear!”

Over s.h.i.+rley's head Jane saw Peter vanish through a doorway--beyond which she could see a ma.s.s of smoke and flame--slam down a window, and dash out again, closing the door behind him. Then he was off down the stairs, shouting for help as he went, and getting no response from any quarter of the strangely deserted house.

”Take her away!” he called back to Jane, as he ran, and Jane attempted to obey.

”Where are your clothes, dear?” she asked the child in her arms, but could get no coherent answer.

She looked about her, and carrying s.h.i.+rley, who was slender and as light of weight as a much younger child, soon discovered the little girl's room. She caught up the pile of clothes on a chair, and attempted to dress her charge. But s.h.i.+rley only cried and clung. Jane pulled a silken blanket from the little bra.s.s bed, and wrapping the child in it, and rolling her clothes into a bundle, which she tucked under one arm, carried her downstairs and into a small reception-room near the front entrance.

Peter, das.h.i.+ng through the silent house toward the rear, hoping to come upon a man-servant somewhere, was met at last by a startled maid.

”A room upstairs is on fire,” he said. ”Any men here to help me put it out? If there are n't I must send in an alarm. Any fire-extinguishers about?”

The girl's wits scattered at the news, but she managed to recall the fact that the coachman must be at the stable again by this time, and flew to call him. Peter ran back to keep track of events. He saw that the walls were heavy, that the fire was thus far confined to the one room, and that if help came speedily it would not be necessary to call out the fire department, an expedient to be avoided, he felt sure, unless the danger to the house was greater than he thought.

But the frightened maid forestalled him in this plan. She ran to the telephone and sent in the alarm herself, although in the confusion of her fright she lost some minutes in getting the message properly reported. Meanwhile, the coachman having arrived to aid Peter, bringing with him the apparatus kept in the stables for the purpose of extinguis.h.i.+ng fire, the two were soon successfully fighting the flames without further aid.

s.h.i.+rley, downstairs, was still trembling in Jane's arms, and incoherently crying for her brother Murray, who, she insisted, had not gone out with the others that evening, but had been reading in the room which was now on fire. At that moment Murray himself came limping in at the open door. The maid met him at the threshold.

”O Mr. Murray,” she began--and Jane, in the reception-room, heard her--”the house is on fire, and----”

”What? Where? Where's s.h.i.+rley? Who's----”

Jane, with the child in her arms, appeared at the door of the reception-room. ”She 's here--quite safe,” she said; and with an exclamation, Murray came anxiously toward the two. Then he paused and looked up the staircase, for through the distant closed door upstairs could be heard the sounds of voices, shouting directions. The maid was beginning an excited explanation when Jane interrupted her:

”My brother is here, and he and your coachman are putting it out, I 'm sure.”

”Has anybody sent in an alarm?”

”I did,” said the maid. ”The young man told me not to, but how did he know he could put it out? And the master 'd be blamin' me----”

”We don't want the firemen here if we don't need them,” Murray was beginning, when the distant and familiar clang of a gong stopped the words upon his lips. In a moment more it became evident that a fire-engine and its train were upon them. Murray turned away, and started hurriedly up the stairs.