THE DISCOVERY
A FEW moments after Bobbin's disappearance inside the house Mollie
O'Neill had suddenly torn herself away from the people closed about her
in their effort to hide from her eyes the possible destruction of her
home.
She looked searchingly around her.
"Polly!" she called, "Polly!" For the first moment since the fire
started, she seemed to be losing her self-control. For all at once it
had come to her in a terrifying flash that she had not caught a glimpse
of her sister since the moment when she had gone up-stairs at eight
o'clock to retire to bed.
Nevertheless Polly must be somewhere near by. She must have heard her
calling and she had had plenty of time to escape, more than any one
else, as she had no one else to look after save herself. Yet it was not
like Polly not to have come at once to her aid with the children!
Mollie ran here and there about the yard, still crying out her sister's
name, horror and conviction growing upon her at every step.
At last she caught sight of her husband directing half a dozen men and
caught hold of his arm.
"Billy, Polly is still inside the house, locked in her own room. Don't
ask me how I know it, I do. We have got to go in and get her." And
Mollie started quickly toward the front porch, until her husband flung
his arms about her.
"Wait here, Mollie," he said sternly. "You will do no good, only make
things harder for me. If Polly is inside the house, as you say, I'll
have her out in a jiffy."
Then he called to one of the men. "Keep Mrs. Webster here. On no account
let her follow me," he commanded, and glancing about in every direction
as he ran, he too made for the house.
Assuredly Mollie was right. Neither had he gotten even a passing glimpse
of Polly since the alarm of fire. But was it going to be so simple a
matter to rescue her as he had pretended to his wife? For certainly if
Polly had heard nothing of the tumult and danger surrounding her she
must be already hurt and unconscious.
Once inside his own hall Billy Webster squared his great shoulders. The
way ahead of him now looked like a pathway of flame and yet the smoke
was harder to endure than the heat. Nevertheless go through it he must,
since Polly's room lay at the head of the stairs.
She must be saved. Billy had a sudden vision of Polly from her girlhood
until now; her wilfulness, her charm and her great talent. How stupidly
he had opposed her desire to be an actress in the days when he had
supposed himself in love with Polly O'Neill instead of her twin sister!
Well, now they understood each other and were friends and she should not
come to grief in his house.
In his pocket there was a wet handkerchief. Indeed, all his clothes were
fortunately damp from the water that had been splashed upon him in the
work outdoors. Quickly the man tied the handkerchief about his mouth.
Then he took a few steps forward and paused. There was a noise of
something falling from above; possibly some of the timbers of the old
house were beginning to give way. Could they be under Polly's room?
But even while he thought, Billy Webster fought his way deliberately
forward until he at last reached the bottom of the stairs and then his
feet struck something soft and yielding. Stooping down, he caught up two
figures in his arms, not one!
For in that moment at the head of the stairs when Polly had lost
consciousness Bobbin had managed to half carry, half drag her on a part
of the way. Then realizing that her own strength was failing, with
instinctive good sense and courage she had flung them both forward, so
that they both slid inertly down to the bottom of the stairs.
Instantly and without feeling their weight the man carried the woman and
girl out of doors.
Poor Bobbin, whom in these last terrible moments they had forgotten! Yet
she it was who had remembered better than them all!
Nevertheless, although both Polly and Bobbin were unconscious, neither
of them was seriously burned. Yet Mollie was dreadfully disturbed. Polly
had come to visit them on account of her health, and there was no way of
foretelling what effect this night's experience might have upon her.
Here she was in her night dress, outdoors in the cold, when the rest of
them were warmly clothed.
However, in another moment Polly was comfortably wrapped in a long coat
and carried to the nearest house of one of the farm assistants. Bobbin
too was equally well looked after, and as soon as she had been in the
fresh air for a few moments the girl's breath had come back to her and
she was soon almost herself again.
Yet by this time all the women and children had grown tired, for there
was nothing that they could do. Five minutes before, Mollie's two boys
and little girl and nurse had been taken away and put to bed by one of
the farmer's wives. Moreover, real assistance was arriving at last.
In the excitement some one had been intelligent enough to get to the
telephone in the dining room before the fire had crept in that
direction. The town of Woodford had promised to send help. Even now the
volunteer fire department of the village with an engine and hose
carriage was trampling over the snow-covered lawns of the old Webster
homestead.
A quarter of an hour later a physician appeared and also Betty and
Anthony Graham. Afterwards actually there were dozens of Mollie's and
Billy's friends who drove out in their motor cars to take the family
home with them, or to do whatever was possible for their relief and
comfort.
By this time the fire in the old house had been vanquished and the earth
was filled with the cold grayness of approaching dawn.
Mollie would see no one but Betty, who stayed on with her and the
physician in the room given up to Polly. Mrs. Wharton had been persuaded
not to come, and Anthony Graham had gone back to town to make things
clear to her.
"It is just like Polly to be such a ridiculously long time in coming to
herself," Betty explained to her frightened friend. "I don't think it
means anything in the least alarming." Yet all the time she was wishing
that the physician who held Polly's thin wrist, counting her pulse,
would not look so deadly serious.
However, no matter what she might fear herself, Mollie must be
strengthened and comforted. Her nerves had given way under the recent
strain and fright. It was almost impossible for her to keep her teeth
from chattering and she was unable to stand up. Notwithstanding, nothing
would persuade her to leave her sister's room.
"For if anything serious is the matter with Polly, of course if will be
my fault and I shall never forgive myself," she would repeat over and
over. "You see, I forgot Polly; it was only Bobbin who remembered."
Finally, however, there was a sign from the doctor by Polly's bedside
which Betty managed to intercept. Without a word to Mollie she slipped
across the room to find Polly's eyes wide open and staring in perplexity
at her.
"What on earth has happened, Betty?" she demanded impatiently, although
her voice was so faint it was difficult to hear. "What are you and
Mollie and I doing in a room I never saw before, with me feeling as if I
had been out of the world and then gotten only half-way back into it
again?"
At the sound of her sister's voice Mollie had also moved toward the bed.
She was distressingly white, her soft blue eyes had dark circles around
them and she seemed utterly spent and exhausted.
Quickly Polly reached out her weak hand.
"What is it, Mollie Mavourneen?" she asked nervously, using the name of
their childhood.
Then before either woman replied: "Oh, I remember," she said faintly.
"There was a dreadful lot of smoke in my room and I got to the door
somehow. Bobbin was there and I can't recall anything else."
This time Polly's fingers clung tightly.
"Was any one injured? Was your lovely house burned down?" she inquired.
But Mollie could only shake her head, while the tears ran slowly down
her soft cheeks.
However, Betty spoke reassuringly. "It is all right, Polly dear. No one
is in the least hurt. We were afraid for a while you had been stifled
by the smoke, but you are perfectly well now. And Billy says the house
has been saved. Of course, it has been a good deal damaged inside, but
that can soon be restored."
Polly smiled. "Then for goodness sake do put Mollie to bed! She looks
like a ghost and I am terribly sleepy myself. I have been ever since
eight o'clock last night and I've no doubt it is now nearly morning."
Yet, as her sister and friend were tiptoeing softly away, Polly beckoned
Betty to come back to her.
"Bobbin saved my life, didn't she?" she inquired gently. "I don't think
I should ever have gotten down that dreadful smoke-filled hall except
for her."
Silently Betty nodded; for the moment she did not feel able to speak,
because the story of Bobbin's courage and devotion had touched her very
deeply.
"It is like bread cast upon the waters, isn't it?" Polly murmured
faintly. "It returns to one buttered."