A FRESH OUTLOOK
Nan had already made up her mind what they must do. Despite the spread of
the fire--and the heat of the flames already scorched their faces--she
saw there was no escape for them by the front door of the building. And
the chair-backs shut them off from the side exit.
"Get over the seat-back, Walter," Nan commanded. "Haul your sister and
Bess over. I can climb over myself and take little Inez with me."
"Don't leave us to burn up!" shrieked Linda, wildly, starting up again.
Her ears were keen enough.
"Pearl Graves has fainted," Walter said, hesitatingly.
"If we could only break down these seat-backs," cried Nan. "There are
four rows between us and the side aisle."
"We _can_ break them down," responded Walter, and immediately flung his
weight against the back of the chair in which he had been sitting, glad
to have some line of positive action suggested to him.
The boy's second attempt broke the back of the seat short off; it was
built none too strong. He leaped over into the next row and quickly
smashed his way through that.
"Come on, girls! I'll get you out," he cried, more cheerfully.
His sister and Bess climbed through the first aperture. Nan lifted Inez
through and was about to follow, when Linda seized upon her jacket.
"You let me get out, Nan Sherwood!" she commanded, trying to pull Nan
back.
"There is room enough--and time enough," panted Nan, resisting. "I must
look after Inez."
"Let that young one go with Bess and Grace," Linda said. "Somebody's got
to help me with Pearl. The silly has fainted."
Nan saw that this was so. She adjured Bess to take care of Inez.
"Hi! I don't need nobody ter take care o' me," cried that independent
young lady. "I'm big enough to take care o' myself. You come on, Nan
Sherwood."
"I'm coming," promised Nan, slipping back to help with Pearl.
Instantly Linda pushed by and followed the other girls, leaving Nan alone
with Pearl Graves. The girl had no intention of helping her cousin.
Walter was smashing one seat-back after another, and calling to the
girls to follow. Bess had grabbed up Inez and now only Nan and Pearl
were left behind.
The latter was really senseless. Shaking her--patting her hands--rubbing
her forehead--all did no good. It seemed impossible for Nan Sherwood to
arouse her.
The smoke came down upon them, thick and stifling. The others of her
party were shut out of Nan Sherwood's view. She heard them calling to
each other, Walter shouting in advance. They thought Nan was coming, too.
Nan was dreadfully tempted to run. She was as frightened as she could be.
She had a great terror of fire; ever since her experience with Cousin Tom
in the forest fire, she had shuddered at the very thought of flames.
And here the heat of them almost overwhelmed her. The shrieks of the
frantic throng at the main door of the theatre died away. She heard
the shouted commands of the police and firemen--then the swish of
water from the first pipe brought to play upon the flames. But they
were all outside.
There was nobody near to help Nan Sherwood. She might easily have escaped
by herself; but to leave this helpless girl whom Linda Riggs had
abandoned--
Nan could not do that. She seized Pearl Graves by the shoulders and
strove to drag her out of that row of seats and into the next. Although
the main aide was now clear, she dared not try that way. Fire was raining
down from the balcony into the back of the house.
Pearl was a larger and heavier girl than Nan. Strong as the latter was,
and well developed from her athletic training, the older girl would have
been a heavy charge for Nan at best. Now, with the smoke half smothering
her, and Pearl a dead weight in her arms, Nan could scarcely drag her
burden to the opening in the row of seats.
She struggled to it, however, and got the girl through the first row of
chairs, tearing Pearl's dress sadly in the effort and scratching her own
ungloved hands. Nan was crying, too, as she struggled on; she was both
frightened and unnerved.
But she stuck to her self-imposed task. She could hear no voices near
her now. Nothing but the crackling of the flames and the crash of axes
as the firemen wrecked the partition back of the balcony to get at the
seat of the fire.
There was nobody to help Nan with her burden. A curtain of smoke shut off
the firemen and policemen in the front of the house from the auditorium
itself. The smoke grew thicker back there where the young girl struggled
to reach the side exit.
Walter Mason and her other friends had escaped. Nan was glad of that. She
did not even question why none of them came back to help her.
Nan did not know that the moment they appeared in the side alley, leading
back to the rear of the theatre, a policeman with more zeal than good
sense hustled them away from the door and would not let even Walter
return when he found that Nan and Pearl were not with the party.
"Ye can't go back in there, me laddy-buck," declared the officer. "Is it
crazy ye are? Phat's in that the-a-tre will have to stay there, if it
can't git out be itself. Orders is ter let nobody inside."
"But something's happened to Nan!" cried Walter. "She and that other girl
are perhaps overcome with the smoke. They'll smother!"
"Be still, I tell yez," commanded the officer, putting the boy back with
one hand. "Orders is orders. Ye can't go back."
The situation quite overpowered Walter. He could not break through to
help Nan and Pearl. His own sister was crying to him and begging him to
come out of danger. Bess was screaming for Nan. Linda stood by, shaking
with terror and cold. She doubtless realized that she had been the cause
of the catastrophe.
And then, suddenly, little Inez broke away from Bess's restraining hand,
and darted toward the exit, out of which the smoke was now pouring.
Walter sprang forward again, too. The police officer caught the boy with
a strong hand and hurled him back with an emphatic word; but Inez ran
right between the officer's legs!
"Now, drat that young'un!" ejaculated the policeman, as Inez completely
escaped him and disappeared under the pall of smoke.
"Oh, Inez! Come back! You'll be smothered!" shrieked Grace.
If the child heard this cry she paid no attention. Fearless and wild, she
was too used to having her own way to obey now. And, besides, in her own
queer, half-tamed way, she loved Nan Sherwood.
Being so tiny, Inez was less affected by the smoke than those who were
taller. The blundering policeman who essayed to follow her into the
doorway, came staggering back, choking and blinded. Walter himself,
springing forward when he thought the way was clear, was met by the
rolling volume of pungent smoke, which filled his lungs and stifled him.
"Come back! Come back, Walter!" wailed his sister.
With smarting throat and tearful eyes the boy obeyed--not because he
wanted to. The heat and smoke overpowered him. The policeman was still
choking and gasping.
Then, of a sudden, Bess Harley emitted an excited cheer. "Here they are!
Hooray!" she shrieked.
Out of the doorway plunged little Inez, one arm over her eyes to defend
them from the stinging smoke; one hand pulling at Nan's jacket, to guide
her; for Nan came stumbling backward from the burning theatre, dragging
Pearl Graves with her.
Both girls fell on the flagging as they reached the alley. The policeman
and Walter raised Nan quickly. She did not lose consciousness; but she
was scorched and breathless. Pearl, however, had not recovered her senses
at all from the moment the shock had made her faint.
"She's--she's safe!" gasped Nan. "I covered her face so she should not
breathe the smoke."
"And you're safe--you dear!" cried Bess, hugging her.
"And what a little trump that kid is," cried Walter, taking Inez by the
shoulders and lifting her suddenly into his arms. He implanted a kiss on
the child's smooched face, and put Inez down, laughing, when she
struggled and cried out.
"Say, you're too fresh, you are," declared Inez. "Who told you you could
kiss me? I don't like boys--much--anyway."
This made the other girls laugh. Walter aided Nan out of the alley. The
policeman carried Pearl out into the back street and to the nearest drug
store. There she was revived, and Linda telephoned for a taxi-cab to
take them both home.
The rich girl had little to say to the Masons, or Nan and Bess. And
certainly the four friends said nothing to her. They were convinced that
there would have been no panic in the theatre had it not been for Linda
Riggs; and her treatment of her own cousin had disgusted them all.
When Pearl had revived, being still very sick, the druggist gave her some
medicine and then Linda took her home in the cab. Pearl knew, however,
who had saved her from the fire. Bess Harley saw to it that there was no
mistake about that.
"And we both owe our escape, I verily believe, to little Inez," Nan
said, laughing, and stroking the head of the waif fondly. "The dear
little thing came right inside and found us in the smoke. I was almost
out of breath."
Pearl was quietly grateful to Nan, however, and she kissed Inez. When she
went away in the cab Nan's hand was the last she touched, and Nan knew
that she had made a friend for life of Pearl Graves. Nan refused to allow
the Masons or Bess to talk of the matter. They all walked home, and by
the time they reached the Mason house were all more quiet and able to
appear before Mrs. Mason as though nothing extraordinary had happened.
It was not until the next morning at breakfast time, indeed, that
Walter's and Grace's parents learned of the fire in the new theatre. Not
much damage had been done the house; but several people had been hurt;
and the escape of Walter and his party had been really miraculous.
"Goodness me!" sighed Mrs. Mason. "I shall be afraid to have you young
folk out of my sight for the remainder of this vacation. What scrapes you
manage to get into!"
These busy winter holidays were drawing to a close, however. Grace and
Walter Mason and their two visitors, as well as all of their
neighborhood friends, who had occupied themselves most enjoyably and in
a dozen different ways, were now scattering for the latter half of the
school year.
Nan did not see Linda Riggs again while she remained in Chicago.
Immediately following the fire in the picture theatre, the railroad
president's daughter went home. How she really felt toward Nan, the
latter did not know; nor did this uncertainty bother her much.
Now that her father's trouble with Mr. Ravell Bulson was cleared up, Nan
did not worry over anything but the seemingly total disappearance of the
runaways, Sallie and Celia or, as they preferred to be known, Lola
Montague and Marie Fortesque.
Mr. Sherwood was still in town to settle matters with the automobile
company, and would return to Tillbury with Nan and Bess and Inez. Walter
and Grace tried to crowd into the last forty-eight hours of the chums'
stay all the good times possible, and the second night before Nan and
Bess were to go home, a masquerade party was arranged at the Mason home.
Of course, Mrs. Mason was the chief "patroness" of the affair and
superintended the arrangements herself. So it was bound to be a success.
Nan needed some ribbons and a new pair of gloves at the last minute, and
she ran out to get them herself. Trying shop after shop, just as the
street lights were beginning to glimmer, she wandered some blocks away
from the Mason house.
She reached a corner where there was a brilliantly lighted bakery beside
a narrow and dark alley. Nan was looking for a shop where gloves were
sold, not for a bakery; but some people coming out of the shop jostled
her. She did not give the little group a second glance as they set off on
their several ways from the bakeshop door.
Suddenly, she heard a voice say: "Oh, Sallie! they smell so good. I am as
hungry as I can be."
Nan fairly jumped. She wheeled quickly to see two girls--one quite tall
and pretty, after a fashion--standing with a bag of cakes between them.
The tall girl opened it while the shorter peered in hungrily.
"Goodness! Can it be--?"
Nan's unspoken question was not completed, for out of the alley darted a
street urchin of about Inez's age, who snatched the bag of cakes out of
the girl's hand and ran, shrieking, back into the dark alley.
"Oh! the rascal!" gasped the taller of the two girls.
The other burst into tears--and they were very real tears, too! She
leaned against the bakery wall, with her arm across her eyes, and sobbed.
"Oh, Marie, don't!" begged the other, with real concern. "Suppose
somebody sees you!"
"I don't care if they do. And I _hate_ that name,--Marie!" choked the
crying girl, desperately. "I won't answer to it an--any more--so now! I
want my own na--name."
"Oh, dear, Celia! don't be a baby."
"I--I don't care if I _am_ a baby. I'm hun--hun--hungry."
"Well, we'll buy some more cakes."
"You can't--you shouldn't," sobbed the other, weakly. "I haven't any more
money at all, and you have less than a dollar."
Nan had heard enough. She did not care what these girls thought of her;
they should not escape. She planted herself right before the two startled
strangers and cried:
"You foolish, foolish things! You are starving for greasy baker's cakes,
when your fathers and mothers at home are just sitting down to lovely
sliced ham and brown bread and biscuit and homemade preserves and
cake--_and plenty of it all_! Sallie Morton and Celia Snubbins, I think
you are two of the most foolish girls I ever heard of!"
The crying girl stopped in surprise. The other tried to assume a very
scornful air.
"Haven't you made a mistake, Miss?" she said. "My name is Lola Montague
and my friend is Miss Marie Fortesque."
"Sure they are," said the excited Nan. "I know they are your names, for
you chose them yourselves. But I was at your house, Sallie Morton, the
day of the big blizzard--the very day after you and Celia ran away. And
if you'd seen how your mother cried, and how badly your father felt--
"And _your_ mother is worried to death about you, Celia Snubbins; and
your father, Si, who is a dear old man, said he'd give everything he
owned to get you back--"
"Oh, oh!" gasped Celia, and burst into tears again.
"Listen to this, Sallie Morton!" added Nan, rummaging in her shopping bag
and bringing forth Mrs. Morton's letter. She read some of the letter
aloud to the girls.
"Now, Sallie, how dare you stay away from a mother like that? You've both
just got to come with me. I should think you'd have found out by this
time that neither of you will ever be famous as motion picture
actresses."
"We have!" gulped Celia, plucking up a little courage. "You know we
have, Sallie. That Mr. Gray told us to go back and milk the cows--you
know he did!"
Sallie, determined as she was, was softened by her mother's letter. She
said: "Well--if they'll have us back, I s'pose we might as well go. But
everybody will laugh at us, Celia."
"Let 'em laugh!" cried her friend. "They won't laugh any harder than
those folk in that studio did when we tried to act for the movies."
Their experience searching for work at the film studios all over
Chicago had taught the two country girls something, at least. They had
seen how poor people have to live in the city, and were going back to
their country homes with an appreciation of how much better off they
were there.
First, however, Nan forgot to buy her gloves; and instead took Sallie and
Celia back to the Mason house with her. When she explained the situation
to Walter and sent him out to telegraph to Mr. Morton, the boy laughingly
nick-named the big Mason home, "The Wayfarers' Inn."
"If you stayed here a month longer, Nan Sherwood, you'd have the house
filled with waifs and strays," he declared.
Sallie and Celia that evening divided interest with the masquerade party.
The next day at noon, however, the fathers of the two girls arrived and
took them home.
The farmers were grateful--loquaciously so on Mr. Si Snubbins' part--to
Mr. and Mrs. Mason for housing the runaways over night; but neither could
properly express the feeling he had for Nan Sherwood.
Mrs. Morton did that later in a letter, and Nan keeps that much-read
letter to this very day in the secret box in which she locks her medal
for bravery. She thinks a great deal more of the letter from the grateful
farmer's wife than she does of the Society's medal.
Before Nan Sherwood returned to Tillbury she saw Jennie Albert again, and
finally made a special call upon Madam, the famous film actress, to beg
that kind, if rather thoughtless, woman, to take the girl under her own
special and powerful protection.
Inez went to Tillbury and Mrs. Sherwood welcomed the waif just as Nan
knew she would. While Nan was absent at school, her mother would have
somebody to run errands and who would be cheerful company for her in "the
little dwelling in amity."
So we leave Nan Sherwood, looking toward her second term at Lakeview
Hall, and about to renew her association with the girls and instructors
there--looking forward, likewise, to hard study, jolly times, and a
broadening opportunity for kindly deeds and pleasant adventures in her
school life.