MRS. GORHAM SMELLS SMOKE
"I was perfectly positive that if we went away and left you in charge for
one single day, Kit, you would manage to get into some kind of
misadventure," Jean said, reproachfully, that evening. "If you only
wouldn't act on the impulse of the moment. Why on earth didn't you tell
father, and ask his advice before you telephoned to Mr. Hicks?"
"That's a sensible thing for you to say," retorted Kit, hotly, "after
you've all warned me not to worry Dad about anything. And I did not act
upon the impulse of the moment," very haughtily. "I made certain logical
deductions from certain facts. How was I to know he was hunting gypsy
moths and other winged beasts when I saw him bending over bushes in our
berry patch? Anyhow it would simplify matters if Dad would let us know
when he expected illustrious visitors. Did you see old Hannibal's face and
Evie's, too? They were so disappointed at not having a prisoner in tow to
exhibit to the Gilead populace on the way over to the jail."
Mrs. Gorham glanced up over her spectacles at the circle of faces around
the sitting-room table. The girls had volunteered to help her pick over
berries for canning the following day. It was a sacrifice to make, too,
with the midsummer evening calling to them in all its varied orchestral
tones: Katydids and peep frogs, the swish of the wind through the big
Norway pines on the terraces, and the scrape of Shad's old fiddle from the
back porch. It was Friday evening, and Mr. and Mrs. Robbins had driven
over to the Judge's to attend a community meeting, the latter being one of
Cousin Roxy's innovations in Gilead.
"Land alive," she had been wont to say. "Here we are all living on the
same hills and valleys and never meeting 'cept on Sundays when we have to,
or now and again when there happens to be a funeral. I declare if I
didn't drive about all the time behind Ella Lou, I'd never know how folks
were getting on. So every two weeks the Judge and I are going to hold an
old-time social, only we call it a community meeting so as to try to give
it the new spirit. It's just as well for us to remember that we ain't all
dead yet by a long shot, 'though I do think there's a whole lot that ain't
got any more get up and get to them than Noah's old gray mule that had to
be shoved off the Ark."
Mr. Robbins had invited the erstwhile prisoner to accompany them, but he
had decided instead to keep on his way to the old Inn on the hill above
the village, much to Jean and Helen's disappointment.
Helen had discovered that his first name was Stanley, which relieved her
mind considerably.
"If it had been Abijah or Silas, I know I could never have forgiven him
for getting in the berry patch," she said, "but there is something
promising about Stanley. Seems as if he lit like Mercury just when there
wasn't anything happening here at all."
"Wonder if I turned out that oil stove," Mrs. Gorham said thoughtfully.
"Seems like I smell something. Shad," raising her voice, "do you get up
and go out in that 'ell' room and see if I turned out that fire under the
syrup. I smell smoke."
"Oh, Lord," groaned Shad, laying aside his cherished instrument. "You
could smell ice if you half tried."
He got up lumberingly and sauntered out through the kitchen into the long
lean-to addition, that was used as a summer kitchen now, and the moment he
opened the door there poured out a thick volume of black smoke and flying
soot. The old-fashioned oil stove had a way of letting its wicks "work
up," as Shad said, if left too long to its own devices.
There was a spurt of flame from the woodwork behind the stove, and Shad
slammed the door to, and ran for the water bucket.
It seemed incredible how fast the flames spread. Summoned by his outcry,
the girls formed a bucket brigade from the well to the kitchen door, while
Shad, his mouth bound around in a drenched Turkish towel, fought the blaze
single handed.
Mrs. Gorham made straight for the telephone, calling up the Judge, and two
or three of the nearest neighbors for help. The Peckham boys from the
sawmill were the first to respond, and five minutes later Hiram was on the
spot, having seen the rising smoke and flare in the sky from Maple Lawn.
"You'll never save the place," old Mr. Peckham told them flatly. "The
well's low and everything is dry as tinder. Better start carrying things
out, girls, because the best we men-folks can do is to keep the roofs wet
down and try to save the barn."
While the fire was confined to the "ell" kitchen, the two older Peckham
boys set to work up-stairs, under Jean's direction. Kit had made for her
father's room the first thing. When Jean opened the door she found her
piling the contents of the desk and chiffonier drawers helter-skelter
into blankets.
"It's all right, Jean," she called. "I'm not missing a thing. You tie the
corners up and have the boys carry these down-stairs and bring back the
clothes-basket and a couple of tubs for the books. Tell Helen to take the
canaries out."
"Doris has them, and Gladsome, too," answered Jean. "And Mrs. Gorham is
getting all of the preserves out of the cellar, and Mr. Peckham says he's
sure they'll save the piano and most of the best furniture, but, oh, Kit,
just think of how father and mother will feel when they see the flames in
the sky, and know it's Greenacres burning."
"You'd better start in at mother's room and stop cogitating, or we'll be
sliding down a lightning rod to get out of here."
Nobody quite noticed Helen in the excitement, but later when all was over,
it was found that she had rescued all the treasures possible, the pictures
and bric-à-brac, the sofa pillows and all the linen and family silver
that had been packed away in the bottom of the sideboard.
As the rising glow of the flames lighted up the sky help began to arrive
from all quarters. Mrs. Gorham's thoughtfulness in telephoning immediately
brought the Judge first, with all of the neighbors that had been present
at the community meeting. Cousin Roxy was bareheaded, little curly wisps
of hair fluttering around her face.
"I made your father stay up at our place," she told the girls. "You'll all
probably have to come back with me anyhow and excitement isn't good for
him. Besides, he wouldn't be a bit of good around here. Seems like they're
getting the fire under pretty good control. I don't believe all the house
will go. It was fearful old anyway, and it needed to be rebuilt if you
ever expect your great-grandchildren to live here."
Kit noticed an entirely new and unsuspected trait in Cousin Roxy on this
night of excitement. It was the only time when she had not seen her take
command of the situation. But to-night she helped Mrs. Gorham pack all
the necessary household supplies into the back of the wagon for Shad to
drive up to Maple Lawn. As soon as she had seen the extent of the damage
she had said immediately that the robin's nest must be moved up the hill
to her own old home, where she had lived before her marriage to Judge
Ellis.
"It won't take but a couple of days to put it into shape for you, and
Hiram's right up there to look after things. You'll be back here before
snow flies, with a few modern improvements put in, and all of you the
better for the change. Helen, go bring the family treasures from under
that pine tree, and put them in the back of our car."
"You know, Cousin Roxy," Kit exclaimed, "I thought the minute you showed
up down here to-night you'd be the chief of the fire department."
Cousin Roxy laughed heartily.
"Did you, child? Well, I've always held that there are times and seasons
when you ought to let the men-folks alone. After you've lived a lifetime
in these parts, you'll know that every boy born and bred around here is
taught how to fight fire from the time he can tote a water bucket. Did you
save all the chickens, Shad?"
"Ain't lost even a guinea hen!" Shad assured her. "The barn ain't touched,
and so I'm going to sleep over the harness room and watch out for the
stock."
It was always a secret joy to the girls to hear the way Shad would roll
out about the Greenacre "stock."
"Just as if," Jean said, "we had all the cattle upon a thousand hills and
racers and thoroughbreds into the bargain, instead of Bonnibel and Lady
Bountiful, with Princess and the hens. I think Helen put him up to it. She
always thinks in royal terms of affluence."