Part 4 (2/2)
At the approaching noises, which to the delicate child had always been peculiarly terrifying, little s.h.i.+rley began to cry afresh. Jane gathered her up with an air of determination.
”I'm going to take her to our house across the street,” she said to the maid. ”There's no need of her staying here to be so frightened.”
The girl made no remonstrance. She was too excited to do more than bewail the absence of the other servants, and the misfortune of her having been left alone in charge. ”I 'd just stepped out of the door a minute, miss,” she explained, ”to speak to a friend of mine that was pa.s.sing. 'T was a mercy I left the door open, or the young gentleman couldn't have----. There's the gong!--There 's the fire-engine!--Oh, my--but look at the crowd comin' after 'em!”
”Show me a side door where I can slip out, please,” requested Jane hurriedly, and the maid obeyed.
As the firemen ran in at the front door, Jane, with s.h.i.+rley in her arms, hurried out at a low side entrance, from which a path through the shrubbery led to a gateway in the high hedge next the street.
As she reached her own porch, the rest of her family came rus.h.i.+ng out, having heard the commotion in the street. She almost ran into Nancy who stopped abruptly to stare at Jane's burden.
”Come back into the house with me, Nan,” said Jane, quickly. ”Here 's our frightened little neighbour. The fire will soon be out, but I thought she'd be happier over here, for the family are all away.”
In the house she put s.h.i.+rley down upon the couch in the front room, and the child, staring up, her big eyes full of tears and fright, beheld the face of the girl she had so longed to know smiling down at her.
”This is splendid!” said Nancy Bell. ”I've wanted to know you like everything, and now I 've got you right here in my own house. Won't you let me help you get dressed? I 'd love to.”
Seeing that Nancy would be better for the shy little visitor than any number of older persons, Jane left the two together, and went out to see what was happening.
It was very little. The fire-engine was already turning to leave, the driver grumbling at a needless alarm. ”All out!” a voice was shouting, and the crowd was reluctantly pausing upon the edge of the lawn, disappointed that no further excitement was to be had. Upstairs the firemen had found the fire subdued to a mere dying smother of smoke, the efficient chemical having made quick work of the blaze, which had not had time to attack the walls of the room, but had been confined to its furnis.h.i.+ngs.
Peter, his hands and clothes grimy, made light of the affair to Murray, who was looking in at the ruin of the room.
”I took a few liberties with your front door,” Peter said, ”finding it open and no one about. Oh, no, it hadn't much headway; I saw that when I decided not to call out the department. It was quite a blaze, but mostly the light stuff about. It must have caught from the curtains blowing into that student-lamp.”
”That's my fault,” Murray owned. ”I hate electric lights to read by, so I lighted that lamp here. I was reading, but the room began to feel stuffy, and I opened the window. It looked so pleasant outside I thought I 'd take a turn round the square. I 'm not a fast walker”--he glanced at his lame leg--”and I was probably at the other side of the square when you came in. Look here, you must have been mighty quick to take in the situation, for I couldn't have been away over five minutes when you saw the blaze.”
”My sister and I happened to be standing out on our porch--you see, we live just round the corner in Gay Street--about opposite these windows here----”
”I know,” Murray nodded. ”I 've seen you.”
”We thought at first it was a cannel-coal fire--you know how they flash with a red light. But when we suspected, we just ran across. I hope your little sister wasn't too badly frightened?”
”Her room's next to this. Poor child, she _was_ frightened. I deserve a thras.h.i.+ng, you know, for my carelessness. Every one of the family is out, and all the servants except my mother's maid. It was very kind of your sister to take s.h.i.+rley in charge. She's downstairs with her now.”
”Will your people be getting news of the fire-alarm and be frightened?”
Peter asked, putting on his coat.
”I don't think so. Father and mother are out of town at a dinner, and my sister's at a party in a country house. They won't be likely to hear. I don't know where my brother is. Don't go. Must you? I--you know I'm awfully obliged to you for this----”
”It's nothing. Glad I happened to be on hand,” and Peter would have said good night and run down the stairs, but he saw that his host meant to go down with him. So he descended slowly, keeping pace with the other's halting steps, and talking with him as he went.
”Your sister was here when I came in,” said Murray, glancing into the small reception-room. The maid, who had been watching the departure of the crowd from the window of this room, turned to him.
”The young lady took Miss s.h.i.+rley home with her,” she explained. ”I was that fl.u.s.tered I let her go without so much as asking you, Mr. Murray, but----”
”It's all right,” Murray put in, hastily. ”It was just the thing to do, the child was so scared. If they 're at your house, I 'll just step over there with you, if you don't mind.”
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