A DREAD CALL IN THE NIGHT.
The next day Dorothy was ill as the result of the strain of the
previous evening, and when Mr. Ludlow and Ruth called they found her
resting on the couch in the living room. Ruth was eager to talk of the
happenings of the night before, but Mr. Ludlow restrained her, saying:
"Dorothy, I am very proud of you, and I want to thank you for what you
did last night. The morning papers are full of the news of the events
of last night, and now every place you go you will be doubly welcomed
and given hearty receptions. It was a very good thing for us as it
has given you advance press notices, which are superior and more
convincing than anything I could put in for you. You will probably get
all kinds of letters from people wanting you to play at private
concerts, but keep them, my dear, as sometimes they come in very
handy, and you never can tell when you can use them.
"But for the present you must rest, that is, to-day and to-morrow.
Tuesday we start on the noon train for Washington, so be prepared and
on time. Ruth has much packing to do likewise, so we will go now and
leave you to yourself."
"Oh, can't I stay and talk?" interrupted Ruth eagerly. "There are so
many things I want to talk to Dorothy about."
"No. I guess you had better go home and pack up. You know I want you
to go to church to-night. There is to be a musical service at St.
Bartholomew's that I want you to hear," added Mr. Ludlow.
"Can't we all go?" questioned Ruth.
"I think Dorothy is better off home, here," rejoined Aunt Betty. "She
had better stay here and rest, just for to-day. Then you see, she has
to pack and shop a little to-morrow."
"I would like to go," Alfy chimed in. "I just love church music, it is
so grand, so very impressive and kind of awe inspiring."
"All right," answered Mr. Ludlow, "suppose you do. You can bring Jim
with you, if he would care to come."
"I know I should enjoy the services very much," responded Jim, not
very enthusiastically, but so long as he couldn't be with Dorothy he
could sit there and think of her, and Alfy was so anxious to go it
would be unkind to refuse.
"Well, you two meet us there," said Mr. Ludlow, and turning to Ruth,
"Come along, my dear."
"Good-bye, all," said Ruth, and they departed.
Dorothy and Aunt Betty stayed home as arranged, while Jim and Alfy
attended church, returning to the hotel just as Aunt Betty and Dorothy
were about to retire.
"Oh, Dorothy," exclaimed Alfy, eagerly, "you ought to have gone, you
missed such a lot. The music was so beautiful. I just know that an
organ has locked up in those big pipes the finest music in the world.
It's so solemn and impressive it most made me cry."
"But you forget the wonderful singing," interrupted Jim. "They had a
full choir, and the voices of so many young boys sounded like the
voices of angels. And as they played the recessional and marched out,
the singing grew softer and softer, and sounded as if it were coming
from Heaven indeed."
Dorothy did not say anything at this, but looked at Jim earnestly.
"I am glad you enjoyed the services. Yes, the Episcopal services, I
do think, are the most impressive of all denominations," said Aunt
Betty.
"Did you see Ruth and Mr. Ludlow?" asked Dorothy, turning to Alfy. She
was afraid to look at Jim for fear of seeing something in his eyes she
felt she had no right at that time to see.
"Yes, we met them in time, and they both wished to be remembered to
you and Aunt Betty, and hoped you were feeling rested now," answered
Alfy.
"Come, let's go to bed now, dears," said Aunt Betty. "We all have to
do a lot to-morrow and must get up real early." With that they all
retired to rest till the morrow. That at least was their expectation,
but soon there was to materialize a different aspect to affairs. New
York, even at night, is a noisy place, so it is little wonder that
when the cries of "Fire," "Fire," rent the air, few heard and the few
who did hear paid not much attention.
But when someone knocked on Mrs. Calvert's door with a terrific thud,
and yelled, "Fire! Fire! All out! Use stairs to the left!" all three,
Aunt Betty, Dorothy and Alfy, were out of their beds with unhesitating
promptness, and remarkably scared at that.
"Fire! Fire!" rang through the air, and they could hear the bell-boys
thump, thump, thump on each door.
"Put on your slippers and kimona and come at once!" commanded Aunt
Betty, suiting actions to her words. "Come, Alfy, Dorothy, this way
out!"
Very quickly, indeed, the girls, too bewildered to do much else but
obey orders, followed close by, Alfy picking up her hat and a few
other articles as she ran through her room.
"This way, ladies," called the bell-boy. "This way. No danger, only
it's best to get out. Use this stair."
Aunt Betty and the girls quickly gained the stairs, and ran down as
fast as they could, one after the other. On reaching the main floor
they heard the call of another attendant. "All step outside and across
the street." So they followed quietly on and outside till they stood
on the opposite side of the street.
There were assembled a couple of hundred people, mainly guests of the
hotel, most of them more or less asleep and very scantily clothed in
garments hastily assumed. Some of the women and children were sobbing,
and most of them shivering. Looking up at the hotel, Dorothy tried to
locate just where the fire was. She finally discovered a little flame
and smoke curling up from the wing of the hotel, not where their rooms
were, but far above, near the top floors. Quickly she ran her eye down
and counted the floors, finding that the fire was on the tenth and
eleventh floors.
Suddenly it came to her that her priceless violin, her precious
Cremona, was back there in their rooms on the seventh floor. Suddenly
she slipped away from Aunt Betty and started toward the building.
Swiftly she made her way through the crowd, and very quietly passed
the firemen and bell-boys who stood about the entrance to the burning
building. In a second she was past them, and on her way up the long
stairs as she knew that the elevators were not running, and would not
take her up if they were. She felt sure that she could get to the room
and return with safety without being missed.
In the meantime, Jim, who had not awakened at the first alarm, almost
frantic at not being able to discover Aunt Betty and the girls, was
wandering in and out of the crowd, scanning the faces of everyone very
carefully, trying vainly to find the ones he loved best in all this
wide, wide world. Suddenly a hand grasped his arm and a voice said,
"Jim, Jim, we have been looking for you. Where have you been?" and
Jim turned and saw it was Aunt Betty that spoke.
"What do you think of the fire?" she continued. "Do you think it is
going to be real serious?"
"No. But one can hardly tell. I should judge that with the capable
fire service that New York has, so fully equipped and strictly
up-to-date, that they could get it under entire control with possible
danger to only a couple of floors," answered Jim.
"Then, maybe our floor will not be burned at all?" inquired Alfy.
"I hope not," answered Aunt Betty.
Just then Jim turned to look at the girl, for she stood directly in
back of Aunt Betty, and catching sight of her he laughed outright.
"Why, Alfy, what have you there?" he exclaimed.
A funny sight, indeed, was Alfy, her little bedroom slippers of red
just peeping out from under her bright pink kimona which she had
slipped on over her night dress, and a bright red hat in her hand.
"My hat," answered Alfy. "My best new hat. I saw it lying on the table
so I picked it up as I passed. I couldn't bear to think of losing it.
It's my favorite color and here it is." She placed the hat on her
head and laughed as she did so. Aunt Betty turned and laughed, too,
and so did many of the people around them.
The girl looked funny indeed with the kimona and the hat. Her long,
abundant growth of hair was braided down her back in two huge braids
tied at the ends with blue hair ribbons which had long been discarded
from day use. The red hat topping all looked as if the fire itself was
there in their midst.
"Great heavens!" exclaimed Aunt Betty, suddenly. "Where is Dorothy?
Where is she?" Whereat faintness overcame her, and she dropped
helpless upon the sidewalk. Jim caught and held her in his young
strong arms, and carried her over to a chair that had been brought out
of the hotel. Here he put her in the care of a young matron, who had
kindly offered assistance, and was aiding Alfy. Being sure that she
was safe and well cared for, he quickly began to look for Dorothy. In
a few seconds he ran through the crowd, his heart sinking, as he could
not locate her anywhere.
Then he thought she might have gone back to the burning building. The
thought of her, the girl he loved, up there in that dangerous place
nearly drove him frantic. Quickly he rushed past the fire lines,
yelling to the policemen who would have delayed him perhaps, when
every moment was precious. He must find her. His Dorothy must be
saved.
"There is someone in there I must save!" he shouted to those he
passed.
He hurried on and ran into the building. First he went toward the
elevator, but seeing no one there, turned and ran for the stairs.
Quickly he mounted them quickly--indeed he ran! Up those seven long
flights of stairs he went with an energy he never called forth before.
As he neared their floor he saw that the fire had in some few places
broken through to the seventh floor, and realized that he could go no
higher, and had but a few moments more.
"Dorothy! Dorothy!" he called out. He thought he heard a very faint
answer from her and rushed madly onward. He could not see, and was
choked by the thickening smoke. Finding his way into the bath room he
opened the window, then he picked up two large towels and hastily wet
them with cold water. One of those he wrapped about his head, and then
he called again. She answered faintly, and then he found the girl, her
precious violin in her hands. She choked with the smoke, and was all
out of breath from her long race up the many flights of stairs.
"Jim," she sobbed. "I just had to get this. I couldn't leave my violin
up here," and fell into his arms.
"Come girl," said Jim, sternly. "Here, put this around your face, so,"
and he carefully adjusted the wet towel he had provided for the
purpose.
"Now, follow me, and give me your hand."
Just outside the doors the smoke was very dense.
"Lay down and creep!" ordered Jim, "and give me your violin."
He took the violin and forced Dorothy down and beside him so that
their heads would be close to the floor. As you doubtless know, smoke
rises, and the place freest from smoke would be the lowest possible
one. Thus they crept until they reached the stair.
"Stand up, now," commanded Jim, "and take the violin again." Then he
took her in his arms and rapidly made his way down, till they had
passed the zone of danger. Here for one brief moment he held the girl
in his arms, murmuring lowly, "Thank God, darling, you are safe now."
Then they quickly made their way to the place where he had left Aunt
Betty and Alfy.
There sat Mrs. Calvert, pale but calm. On seeing her, Dorothy rushed
into her aunt's arms, and explained, "Dear Aunt Betty, I just went
back after my violin. I couldn't let it stay in there and get burned.
And Jim came after me and saved me."
"Dear, dear child, don't you know how foolish that was to do? Why you
are far more precious to me than any violin, no matter how priceless
it may be."
Just then they heard a voice calling the crowd to attention. It was
the manager of the hotel, making an announcement. He told the people
that while the firemen had the fire well in control, it was considered
safest for none of the guests to return to their rooms until the
morning, when it would be entirely safe. The Hotel Breslin, he
informed them, would accommodate them for the night, and was but a few
doors away.
The people began to follow his instructions at once, and the clerks at
the Hotel Breslin were soon very busy apportioning rooms to them. All
were very shortly trying to overcome their worries sufficiently to
enable them to regain the sleep they had lost.
The fire had been caused by the carelessness of some of the servants
of the hotel in dropping lighted matches on the floor, the servants'
apartments being in the top of the building. It was therefore hoped
that little damage had been done to the property of the guests.