EVENTFUL JOURNEY
As Tavia reached the end sofa, upon which a pretty golden-haired baby
lay curled beside a sleepy mother, she made a motion to attract the
child's attention. The little one saw it at once, promptly slipped down
and stole away from the sofa without in the least disturbing the woman.
The tot followed Tavia to the little end room--Dorothy saw her going,
and though feeling very drowsy herself (which really was the reason
Tavia left her alone) Dorothy kept her eyes opened long enough to see
that the mother was sound asleep, and had not missed her baby.
"I am sure Tavia will take good care of her," thought Dorothy, as she
settled down for a rest, "she is so fond of children, and it will be a
change for the child--traveling must be very tiresome to such little
ones."
The train rumbled on. Dorothy thought of home, of the good father and
two dear brothers she had left there. Then she wondered what would
happen at North Birchland. It was such a lovely summer place, and her
relatives there were sure to do all they could to make the stay
pleasant.
In the White family there were besides Mrs. Winthrop White, her two
sons, Edward and Nathaniel, aged sixteen and fourteen years. Professor
White, their father, had died suddenly some years before, while on an
expedition out in quest of scientific data, but the White family
possessed almost unlimited means, so that Major Dale's sister, while
lonely enough in life without her husband, had the pleasant duty of
bringing up two talented and good looking boys in a way that befitted
the positions they would occupy as their father's sons--the White
family being among the most aristocratic in New York state.
Dorothy had not seen her cousins in three years, the boys' time,
between vacations, being spent at school, and the intervals of late
being occupied with trips abroad. As she traveled on now, and became
more and more sleepy Dorothy wondered if Nat were as full of mischief
as he used to be when he visited Dalton, and if Ned still spent his
spare time chasing butterflies to add new specimen to his collection.
But even these interesting reflections are not to be compared with such
sedative influence as the rumbling of a train with a summer breeze
coming In the window, and the girl, weary enough from her fright at the
falls and its consequent shock to her nervous system soon forgot to
think--she was asleep.
Meanwhile Tavia was occupied with the pretty baby in the end
compartment. The child was about three years old, and remarkably
communicative for her age. The little alcohol lamp, she told Tavia, was
used to heat her milk, also to curl her hair, for mamma never took her
to the hotel without curls, she said.
To bear out this statement, Lily, that was the little stranger's name,
produced from a satchel under the wash basin a tiny pair of curling
irons.
It seemed like fate to Tavia,--there was the very thing she had been
wishing for--curling tongs.
"Let's try it," she suggested, as Lily prattled on about the wonderful
"real" curls that the iron could make.
A careful investigation revealed to Tavia the secrets of the alcohol
lamp. Everything was there--even to matches.
Being sure the lamp was placed firmly upon the marble slab, Tavia
struck a match and lighted the wick.
"There," she said with evident satisfaction, "that part was easy
enough."
"You put the iron right in there," directed Lily, and Tavia promptly
followed the advice.
"Sit on my lap while it heats," Tavia told the child, not thinking it
safe to allow her to move about in the small place with a strange kind
of stove burning.
The child jumped up eager to hear a story. The wood-kind, full of bears
with remarkable appetites, pleased her most, Tavia discovered, and it
was in such a mental delight that the child passed a very happy little
"minute."
"It must be hot--" said Tavia.
She turned and at that very moment a strange flash shot up to the
ceiling!
An explosion! Then such a blinding flame!
With the child still in her arms Tavia made a dash for the door.
Frantically she pulled at it but it would not open! The child screamed
piteously.
"Help! Help!" shouted Tavia, clutching at the knob with one hand, while
she clung to the child with the other.
Instantly Dorothy was on her feet and down at that little door.
"Open it!" she screamed, for the smell of smoke had reached her on the
outside.
Without waiting for an answer, or for those at hand to act, Dorothy
jumped to a seat and grasped the bell rope.
At that moment the door gave in to Tavia's pulling, and she fell
headlong out into the aisle with the baby in her arms.
The train stopped, and brakemen were now running through the cars in
search of the trouble. Passengers had broken the tool boxes and were
fighting the spreading flames with hand grenades and portable
extinguishers. Fainting women called for attention--among these being
Lily's mother.
Tavia was now lifted to a seat, and Dorothy had called into her ears
that the baby was safe--she was not even scratched!
But Tavia was not so fortunate, for an ugly red mark showed where the
tongue of fire scorched her, and her hair--
One side was entirely burned off!
Dorothy's heart sank as she noticed the loss, but it was nothing, of
course, compared to what might have happened to the baby.
The excitement in the rear of the car had, by this time subsided
somewhat, showing that the flames were extinguished. Lily, safe and
uninjured, sat in her mother's lap--no danger of her getting away again
evidently.
Among the passengers was a doctor who offered his services to Tavia.
The burns were slight, he declared but there was danger of shock, and
the loss of her beautiful hair was to be regretted.
Tavia tried to laugh to assure Dorothy she was all right, and then she
insisted upon talking about the accident.
"The lamp did not explode," she declared. "The fire came from the other
end of the room."
The trainmen listened anxiously to this report. They were obliged to
make a most careful investigation, and Tavia was very willing to help
them. Professional looking men crowded around--one who introduced
himself to the doctor as a well known lawyer of Rochester called
Dorothy aside and offered to look out for the interests of the injured
girl.
"Whatever you think best," Dorothy said, "I have never had any
experience with law. But if you think we should take account of it at
all I should be most grateful for your help."
Then Tavia was taken into a private compartment, and there, with
Dorothy encouraging her, and the lawyer and doctor listening, she told
the story of the accident.
"I had lighted the alcohol lamp," she declared, "but I am positive that
did not explode. The flash came from behind us--the other end of the
room. Then the door would not open--oh how dreadful that was!"
For a moment Tavia covered her eyes, then she resumed:
"I heard Dorothy's voice and that seemed to keep me from falling in the
smoke. At last the door opened and that's all I know."
"Now, you just rest here," the doctor advised, "while Mr. French and I
do some outside investigating."
Then it was that the important clew was discovered, for at the very
door of the little room, where the fire had raged, was found a piece of
glass with a label!
Gasoline!
"She was right," declared the lawyer, taking possession of the
tell-tale piece of bottle, the railroad men would have been so glad to
have seen first, "this tells the story. A bottle of gasoline exploded."
Looking carefully over the damaged room the lawyer made some entries in
his note book and, with the doctor, approached Lily's mother. The woman
positively refused to make known her name, and even the railroad men
had not succeeded in learning who she was.
"That my baby is safe," she declared, "is all I ask. People saw the
girl coax her off, but even this I am entirely willing to overlook, and
I will positively make no claims against the company."
The doctor saw the child was not in the least injured, and also was
convinced there was no danger of shock to the little nervous system, as
the tot looked upon the whole occurrence as "good fun," so the
professional men withdrew their offer to serve either the woman or her
child.