There was no danger of the river rising to such an extent that the
building would be surrounded and communication cut off. Such a thing
would be impossible! But Doctor Weldon had forgotten to reckon with the
creek which flowed on the opposite side of town and joined the river at
the east end. It had risen as rapidly as the river and had come over the
banks and was creeping in upon them.
Hester awakened suddenly. It was early morning for the gray lights were
shining in at the windows. The rain had ceased. The first thought which
came to her was that of thankfulness. Now they could have a clear
Saturday and be out of doors without being drenched to the skin.
It was not raining but there was a peculiar gurgling sound of water.
Helen also heard it and sat up in bed.
"Do you hear that, Hester? What is it?"
"It is something outside, I'll see." As she spoke she had left her bed
and hurried to the window. Her exclamation brought Helen to her. There
was no need to ask for explanation. Beech Creek had backed in from a
mile beyond, and was lapping against the stone foundation. The water was
moving over the campus. Nowhere was it more than an inch deep; but on
each side lay the greater depths of the river and the creek.
"Let us get dressed at once!" cried Hester.
"Yes, let us go downstairs," replied Helen. She was not so excited as
Hester, yet she was more afraid. Hester knew the river and loved it. Now
her excitement did not spring from fear, but from a kind of enjoyment.
They slipped into their clothes and made themselves as presentable as
possible and hurried downstairs. At the front entrance was a group of
girls. Some were standing on the lower step, which was a single piece of
granite. The water was lapping but a few inches below. While they talked
and laughed, some hysterically, the water crept up and lapped upon the
lower step. The girls moved higher. Five steps led to the entrance,
which was on the level of the first floor. Then the breakfast bell
sounded and the girls reluctantly went into the dining-room.
While they were standing with their hands on the back of their
respective chairs, awaiting the signal from the principal, she addressed
them.
"Young ladies, you will be served with plain fare this morning. Perhaps,
you do not know that the butcher, the baker, the milkman, and butter-man
drive in each morning from Flemington. The road was flooded this morning
and they could not reach us. The supplies which the steward keeps on
hand, are in the basement, which was flooded last night. You may be
seated."
There was no complaint at the bit of bacon and stale bread with which
each plate had been served. There were excitement and hilarious
good-humor, as though the flood had come for their especial benefit to
give them an experience new and unusual. A bit of bacon and stale bread!
One could get along very well for a few hours on that. But it seemed
destined that the students were not to have even so little.
Marshall came in and hurried to Doctor Weldon. She appeared cool and
collected; but one could never tell from her manner whether she were
anxious or not. The few seniors who remembered when the building had
been afire, remembered Doctor Weldon had acted just so. Waiting until
Marshall left the dining-hall, she rang the bell. The buzz of voices
ceased.
"Take your plates and go up to the parlor on the second floor. You may
be dismissed in order. Miss Burkham's table first."
Miss Burkham arose and led the way. She was quite as collected as Doctor
Weldon, although, she, too, had seen the water marks which were
appearing on the floor from the water in the basement below.
"It is like a picnic. Think of eating bacon and stale bread in a parlor,
done up in pale-green and silver. I know it will taste better." It was
Erma who was talking. Her voice rang over all like a silver bell, as
with merry laugh and light spirits she lead the way to the floor above.
The door leading from the main hall on to the porch was closed, but a
little stream had forced itself in and was trickling over the floor.
The men-servants were rolling up the rug, preparatory to carrying it to
the floor above and the women-servants were pinning up window draperies
and hangings to save them from possible contact with the water.
Doctor Weldon, calm and serene, as though a flood were an everyday
occurrence and not at all alarming, went about the building instructing
the servants and teachers in regard to saving what they could of the
property on the ground floor.
Hester, Helen, Erma, and their friends stood on the landing of the
stairway and watched the men work. The girls had forgotten that they
were hungry. Their plates were poised in the air and the bits of bacon
and stale bread were untouched.
Renee came to the head of the stairway and leaning over the balustrade,
looked down on the outstretched plates. "Haven't you girls touched a
bite?" she asked. "I am glad I found you. I wish you'd lend me your
piece of bacon."
The girls, thus addressed, saw nothing humorous in the request. Erma
was about to hand over her portion when a laugh from the hall above
caused her to pause. Emma, Edna, and Louise were laughing and ridiculing
Renee, who turned about and went off in bad humor, explaining as she did
so that she wanted a piece for Mame Cross who had been complaining that
she had not been treated as other girls when it came to the distribution
of bacon.
The men tossed the rugs upon the first landing of the stairway and went
to the assistance of Marshall, who came in with tables and chairs from
the kitchen. By much straining and lifting, the pianos were raised upon
these.
"That is all we can do," said the night-watchman. "We cannot possibly
take them to the second floor. They are three feet higher now. The water
can't possibly rise that much more."
Doctor Weldon had taken refuge on the steps for the hall was flooded.
The girls moved up to the second floor.
"Let us go to the Philo Hall on the third floor," cried Erma. "We can
see over town from there."
"I do not wish to see," said several.
"I do," said Hester and Helen together. The three made their way to the
hall whose windows opened to the north and east. The current from the
river was sweeping about the corner of the building with a tremendous
force. Logs and square timbers, uprooted trees and driftwood were being
borne down in great quantities.
On the side of the driveway, where the current was strongest, stood an
iron lamp-post deeply imbedded in a foundation of stone. It had been
placed there in the early history of the school, when electricity and
gas were unknown. It had never been removed for the trustees were
graduates of the school and refused to remove the landmarks of their
school-days. So there it stood above the muddy, dirty water.
The girls at the open window above could look down upon it.
"See that great timber coming!" cried Helen.
"It is right in the current and making straight for the building. If it
should strike the corner!"
The building was old and not able to stand the force of a heavy timber,
propelled by such a tremendous force. The girls at the window knew what
that meant. They held their breath. The timber rushed on, but it turned
broadside in the current and came up against the iron post. There it
remained as nicely as though weighed and measured and fixed in place.
Back of it came logs and drift which piled upon the timber and lamp-post
until a bulwark was formed which turned the current away from the corner
and the danger with it.
"It's luck. Did you ever see such luck?" cried Erma. "If that lamp-post
had not been there, the whole corner of the building would have been
broken in. It was luck--pure luck."
"It was Providence," said Helen simply. "I think it was meant that the
lamp-post should be just where it is."
There were few words said. The scene was so awful that the desire to
talk was taken away. From the parlors below, the excitement and laughter
died. A quiet fell over the building. There was nothing to do but to
watch and wait--for what or how long, no one could tell.
[Illustration: THEY HELD THEIR BREATH.--_Page 290._]
The sun shone out on the water. Below, lay the city. The portion which
stood low was flooded to the second floor. Hester thought of Aunt Debby
as her eyes rested on the distant town.
"There is no fear there," said Helen following the glance of her
roommate's eyes. "Fairview Street is the highest in town. You remember
there is a terrace with steps where it joins Market. The tops of the
buildings on Fourth Street will be covered before it comes to the doors
of Fairview."
Hester knew that this was true. No immediate danger threatened the
little cottage. The seminary with its old walls and the current from
both river and creek beating upon it was where fear lay.
"Look!" cried Helen, pointing her finger to midstream. There bobbing
along like a cork on the current was a stable one side of which had been
torn away. The mow was filled with hay, and in the stalls beneath was a
horse feeding from the manger. It bobbed along serenely, as though
midriver in a high flood were the legitimate place for a stable. Then it
struck the sides of the bridge. There was the sound of crushing and the
barn was sucked down under the bridge and disappeared from sight.
The morning passed and the girls sat in the window seats, fascinated by
the sea before them.
The water continued rising until twelve o'clock. It filled the lower
halls and crept almost to the second floor. The water-pipes burst and a
famine of drink as well as food came. Fortunately, the experiences of
the day had taken away the appetite.
"I have been watching that old tree," said Hester. "When the clock
struck twelve, the water had just reached the notch at the branches. It
is one o'clock now and it has not gone higher."
The waters were at a standstill. The worst was over. At three o'clock,
Hester cried out with delight. "It is falling--falling! See the trunk of
the tree shows above the water."
It was slowly receding. The danger-mark had passed, although the signs
of havoc it had caused, were yet passing on the breast of the river. A
part of a kitchen went sailing by. The watchers saw the upper window of
a half-submerged house. There was a bed, a cradle, and a sewing-machine
open and ready for use. There were pathos and tragedy sufficient for a
lifetime. There was a touch of humor too, for on a long plank, at either
end, sat a rat and a great black cat. They watched each other
instinctively, and were unconscious of the danger which threatened them
both.
Five o'clock came, and the girls had not moved from their positions.
During the day, but a few sentences had passed between them.
At last hunger came to them. But there was no use going in search of
food; for the larder was bare. There was not even a cup of water for
them.
For more than an hour Helen had not moved. Fear of the water had passed.
A finer feeling than dread inspired her now. Someone from below called
Erma, and she left the Philo Hall. She neither laughed nor danced. Even
her effervescent spirits had been under the spell of the waters.
Her departure aroused Helen from her reverie. Arising, she came to where
Hester sat. Her voice was low. To the old tenderness was added a new
sweetness and strength, "Little roommate," she said, "listen to me for a
few minutes. Weeks ago, I believed you guilty of an act I could not
countenance. I treasured resentment against you, though even while I was
doing it, I loved you. I did wrong in not going directly to you and
making known my complaint. May I tell it to you now, or shall we let it
be as though it never happened, and let all our ugly feeling and
bitterness go down with the flood?"
"Let it go with the flood, Helen. I do not know how I erred, but I do
know that I missed your friendship. Let us forget it from this minute."
"And let me give what I denied long ago," said Helen, as she stooped to
press her lips to Hester's forehead.