BILLY AND THE ITALIAN
Mr. Morris stayed no longer. He followed Mr. Montague along the sidewalk
a little way, and then exchanged a few hurried words with some men who
were standing near, and hastened home through streets that seemed dark
and dull after the splendor of the fire. Though it was still the middle
of the night, Mrs. Morris was up and dressed and waiting for him. She
opened the hall door with one hand and held a candle in the other. I
felt frightened and miserable, and didn't want to leave Mr. Morris, so I
crept in after him.
"Don't make a noise," said Mrs. Morris. "Laura and the boys are
sleeping, and I thought it better not to wake them. It has been a
terrible fire, hasn't it? Was it the hotel?" Mr. Morris threw himself
into a chair and covered his face with his hands.
"Speak to me, William!" said Mrs. Morris, in a startled tone. "You are
not hurt, are you?" and she put her candle on the table and came and sat
down beside him.
He dropped his hands from his face, and tears were running down his
cheeks. "Ten lives lost," he said; "among them Mrs. Montague."
Mrs. Morris looked horrified, and gave a little cry, "William, it can't
be so!"
It seemed as if Mr. Morris could not sit still. He got up and walked to
and fro on the floor. "It was an awful scene, Margaret. I never wish to
look upon the like again. Do you remember how I protested against the
building of that deathtrap? Look at the wide, open streets around it,
and yet they persisted in running it up to the sky. God will require an
account of those deaths at the hands of the men who put up that
building. It is terrible--this disregard of human lives. To think of
that delicate woman and her death agony." He threw himself in a chair
and buried his face in his hands.
"Where was she? How did it happen? Was her husband saved, and Charlie?"
said Mrs. Morris, in a broken voice.
"Yes; Charlie and Mr. Montague are safe. Charlie will recover from it.
Montague's life is done. You know his love for his wife. Oh, Margaret!
when will men cease to be fools? What does the Lord think of them when
they say, 'Am I my brother's keeper?' And the other poor creatures
burned to death--their lives are as precious in his sight as Mrs.
Montague's."
Mr. Morris looked so weak and ill that Mrs. Morris, like a sensible
woman, questioned him no further, but made a fire and got him some hot
tea.
Then she made him lie down on the sofa, and she sat by him till
day-break, when she persuaded him to go to bed. I followed her about,
and kept touching her dress with my nose. It seemed so good to me to
have this pleasant home after all the misery I had seen that night. Once
she stopped and took my head between her hands, "Dear old Joe," she
said, tearfully, "this a suffering world. It's well there's a better one
beyond it."
In the morning the boys went down town before breakfast and learned all
about the fire. It started in the top story of the hotel, in the room of
some fast young men, who were sitting up late playing cards. They had
smuggled wine into their room and had been drinking till they were
stupid. One of them upset the lamp, and when the flames began to spread
so that they could not extinguish them, instead of rousing some one near
them, they rushed downstairs to get some one there to come up and help
them put out the fire. When they returned with some of the hotel people,
they found that the flames had spread from their room, which was in an
"L" at the back of the house, to the front part, where Mrs. Montague's
room was, and where the housemaids belonging to the hotel slept. By this
time Mr. Montague had gotten upstairs; but he found the passageway to
his wife's room so full of flames and smoke, that, though he tried again
and again to force his way through, he could not. He disappeared for a
time, then he came to Mr. Morris and got his boy, and took him to some
rooms over his bank, and shut himself up with him.
For some days he would let no one in; then he came out with the look of
an old man on his face, and his hair as white as snow, and went out to
his beautiful house in the outskirts of the town.
Nearly all the horses belonging to the hotel were burned. A few were
gotten out by having blankets put over their heads, but the most of them
were so terrified that they would not stir.
The Morris boys said that they found the old Italian sitting on an empty
box, looking at the smoking ruins of the hotel. His head was hanging on
his breast, and his eyes were full of tears. His ponies were burned up,
he said, and the gander, and the monkeys, and the goats, and his
wonderful performing dogs. He had only his birds left, and he was a
ruined man. He had toiled all his life to get this troupe of trained
animals together, and now they were swept from him. It was cruel and
wicked, and he wished he could die. The canaries, and pigeons, and
doves, the hotel people had allowed him to take to his room, and they
were safe. The parrot was lost--an educated parrot that could answer
forty questions, and, among other things, could take a watch and tell
the time of day.
Jack Morris told him that they had it safe at home, and that it was very
much alive, quarreling furiously with his parrot Bella. The old man's
face brightened at this, and then Jack and Carl, finding that he had had
no breakfast, went off to a restaurant near by, and got him some steak
and coffee. The Italian was very grateful, and as he ate, Jack said the
tears ran into his coffee cup. He told them how much he loved his
animals, and, how it "made ze heart bitter to hear zem crying to him to
deliver zem from ze raging fire."
The boys came home, and got their breakfast and went to school. Miss
Laura did not go out. She sat all day with a very quiet, pained face.
She could neither read nor sew, and Mr. and Mrs. Morris were just as
unsettled. They talked about the fire in low tones, and I could see that
they felt more sad about Mrs. Montague's death than if she had died in
an ordinary way. Her dear little canary, Barry, died with her. She would
never be separated from him, and his cage had been taken up to the top
of the hotel with her. He probably died an easier death than his poor
mistress. Charley's dog escaped, but was so frightened that he ran out
to their house, outside the town.
At tea time, Mr. Morris went down town to see that the Italian got a
comfortable place for the night. When he came back, he said that he had
found out that the Italian was by no means so old a man as he looked,
and that he had talked to him about raising a sum of money for him among
the Fairport people, till he had become quite cheerful, and said that if
Mr. Morris would do that, he would try to gather another troupe of
animals together and train them.
"Now, what can we do for this Italian?" asked Mrs. Morris. "We can't
give him much money, but we might let him have one or two of our pets.
There's Billy, he's a bright, little dog, and not two years old yet. He
could teach him anything."
There was a blank silence among the Morris children. Billy was such a
gentle, lovable, little dog, that he was a favorite with every one in
the house. "I suppose we ought to do it," said Miss Laura, at last; "but
how can we give him up?"
There was a good deal of discussion, but the end of it was that Billy
was given to the Italian. He came up to get him, and was very grateful,
and made a great many bows, holding his hat in his hand. Billy took to
him at once, and the Italian spoke so kindly to him, that we knew he
would have a good master. Mr. Morris got quite a large sum of money for
him, and when he handed it to him, the poor man was so pleased that he
kissed his hand, and promised to send frequent word as to Billy's
progress and welfare.
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