THE FIRE
For about half an hour the child slept peacefully. Once or twice Emma
stole softly in to find her with hand under a cheek, now rather pale,
and with red lips half-smiling as if in a pleasant dream. "Bless the
child, it's nothin' but a sick-headache," whispered Emma. "She'll
be all the better for the sleep." At the end of the half hour Edna
stirred, sighed, opened her eyes and then sat up. The dizzy feeling was
nearly gone.
Emma came to the door. "Well," she said, "and how are you feeling?"
"A good deal better," said Edna cheerfully. "I think I'll get up and go
down to the living-room, Emma."
"Do you feel equal to it?" asked Emma.
"Oh, yes I think I do. Besides the sun is coming in here now, and I've
been here all day, so I'd like a change."
"Then I'll tell you there's someone down there waiting for you. He
wouldn't have you disturbed, but said I was to bring him word when you
waked up. He's been there about a quarter of an hour, I should say, but
he said he would amuse himself with the papers and magazines, and you
were not to hurry on his account."
This didn't sound as if it could be Louis, as Edna at first supposed it
might be. He had not been asked to go on the sailing party, and could
easily have come over. "It isn't my cousin Louis Morrison, is it?" she
asked.
"No, it's the owld gintleman with the eyebrows. I don't just remember
the name."
"Why, it must be Uncle Justus," cried Edna getting up with alacrity.
"He was to have gone sailing with the others. I wonder why he didn't
go. Is it the gentleman who was here to lunch yesterday, Emma?"
"That very same."
"Oh, then I'll go right down."
She slowly descended the stairs. After all her head did still feel
a little queer, and she was rather faint from eating nothing since
breakfast, so she did not enter the room with her usual animation, and
Uncle Justus did not see her till she had nearly reached his side. Then
he looked up over his spectacles. "Well, well, well," he cried, "how is
my little girl feeling?"
He held out his arms and Edna went to him. "I'm feeling a little
better," she said, as he took her on his knee and settled her
comfortably with her head against his shoulder.
"Poor little lamb," he murmured, "poor little lamb. I am so sorry--we
were all sorry to hear about the headache."
"But, Uncle Justus, I thought you were going on the sailing party."
"So I was, my dear, but I couldn't have enjoyed it knowing you were
here without your mother or any of your family. I know little folks
like their mothers when they are not feeling well, and though I
couldn't in any way take the place of your mother, I wanted to come and
look after you a little."
Edna put up a hand and softly stroked the cheek above the curled
grey whisker, and even a part of the whisker itself. "I think it was
dear of you to do that, but Uncle Justus, I am afraid Mr. Ramsey was
disappointed not to have you go, and I did not mind so very much being
alone. I did want mother awfully, when I was feeling the sickest, but
I tried to think how lovely everyone was to me, and of how nice it was
to be in this lovely cool place by the sea, instead of in the hot city,
and I didn't feel so."
Uncle Justus murmured something which Edna couldn't quite make out,
something about babes and sucklings which really did not appear to have
much to do with the subject.
"Aren't you really disappointed about not going on the sailing party?"
she asked presently.
"No, my dear. I prefer to be here. Besides, do you remember a little
girl who gave up having her Thanksgiving at home that she might share a
lonely dinner with her old uncle? If you have forgotten, I have not."
"Oh, but," returned Edna, quite embarrassed, for the little girl was
none other than herself, "you see you were quite well, and didn't have
a headache." Just what this had to do with it was rather puzzling and
Uncle Justus smiled at the attempted argument.
Then they fell into talking about various things, and in the course of
the conversation Edna told of her adventure in the fog, of how scared
she had been, and how fearful lest Louis were drowned. Uncle Justus
listened attentively, and asked such adroit questions that though
Edna tried to shield Louis, she knew that Uncle Justus was aware of
everything that had happened. He was Louis's Uncle Justus as well as
Edna's.
When the story was ended Uncle Justus was silent for a time, but he
stroked Edna's hair thoughtfully. At last he said half to himself, "I
shall have to have a talk with the boy's mother. He will be ruined if
something is not done." And then Emma came in to know if Mr. Horner
would have tea, and then since he declined this, she asked if he would
dine with Miss Edna.
"Oh, you will, Uncle Justus, won't you," begged Edna.
"I will if you would like me to," he said simply.
So Edna sat up straight and said, "He will stay, Emma, but you must
give him more than I am to have, for Mrs. Ramsey said I'd better not
eat anything very hearty."
"You were to have some broth and toast, Miss Edna," Emma told her, "and
if you wanted more before bedtime I was to give you some hot milk."
"But they will be back by bedtime, Emma, I am sure."
"Very well, miss. I will see that the gentleman has something proper."
She went out and Edna, feeling that she had been coddled long enough,
took a seat on a low chair, and pretty soon dinner was announced, the
two eating it very happily together. Edna had her chicken broth and
toast for which she was quite ready by this time, declaring that she
was actually hungry and that her head was steadily getting better.
As she had predicted, it was not bedtime when the sailing party
returned, full of their doings. Edna was ready with plenty of questions
and was told how Miss Eloise proved to be a good sailor, and had
enjoyed the trip immensely, of how Ben and Mr. Ramsey had carried her
ashore bodily, of how they had made a fire and cooked their supper, and
last of all, how they had all missed her.
It was after Ben and Uncle Justus had departed for the yacht that
Edna watching the lights in the harbor, heard Mr. Ramsey say, "We
saw Mr. Horner in a new light to-day. Who could ever imagine him so
tenderly anxious about his little niece? He always seemed rather a
cold undemonstrative person to me. I was certainly surprised when he
insisted upon returning that he might be with Edna in our absence."
"I was rather surprised myself," responded Mrs. Ramsey, "though now I
remember it, Jennie has told me that he is devoted to Edna, and though
all his other pupils stand in awe of him, that she alone seems to have
no fear. He must have a tender heart, for all his bushy eyebrows and
stern exterior."
The twinkling lights in the harbor were still shining when the little
girls went to bed, but before morning a wilder light was blazing
from the point where old Cap'n Si's little house stood, and, the next
morning when the children looked across to where yesterday they had
seen the old man sitting on the bench outside his door, the smoke
curling from the chimney and the flowers in his little garden making a
brave showing, they beheld but a heap of blackened ruins.
Jennie was the first to see it and ran to her father who had just come
down. "Oh, Papa," she cried, "just come here. There isn't any Cap'n
Si's house any more."
"What's that?" said her father joining her at the window where she
stood.
"Just look."
Mr. Ramsey did look but he saw only the charred bits of wood from which
a slight smoke was rising. "That's bad, very bad," he said shaking his
head. "Why it was only last night that he was telling us that he was
born in that house and hoped to die in it. I wonder how it could have
happened. I hope no one was hurt. Who lives with him, daughter? Do you
remember?"
"His daughter and her family, Bert is the oldest; he is off fishing in
Captain Eli Brown's boat, then there is Louberta, but she's married.
Amelia comes next, and then there's little Si, and Kitty is the
youngest. They haven't any father, for he was lost at sea two years
ago."
"I remember, I remember. It is all very sad. I must go over as soon as
I have had some breakfast and we will see what is to be done."
As one after another came down the news of the fire was told, and Mrs.
Ramsey declared she must go with her husband to find out all about it.
So they started off in the automobile as soon as breakfast was over,
leaving three deeply interested little girls. There was no talk of
calling Cap'n Si that morning, for he would not be looking for the flag
to be run up, instead he was lying helpless on a cot, his hands swathed
in cotton, and his stubbly beard singed by the fire he had vainly tried
to put out.
It was two hours before Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey returned, and then it
was to tell a sorrowful tale. A lamp burning in one of the two little
upper rooms had been overturned by one of the children very early in
the morning, and before the full danger was realized the house was
in flames. Fortunately no one was very seriously hurt, Cap'n Si was
badly scorched, and his hands showed some bad burns, but the doctor
had pronounced these not so very deep. Everything in the house was
consumed, however, and the family were destitute and homeless.
The children gathered around Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey listening with
absorbed interest. "What will they do, Papa?" asked Jennie. "They
have nowhere to go and no clothes and no furniture. Oh, dear, isn't it
dreadful?"
"Some of their neighbors have taken them in temporarily, and as soon
as needs be we shall gather up whatever can be spared in the way of
clothing for them. Then there is a plan on foot to get up a bazar in
order to collect money for their furniture when they shall have another
house."
"How will they be able to build a house? I know they are very poor."
"We hope enough money will be subscribed for that. Everyone respects
Cap'n Si, and we think there will be enough forthcoming to build a
house sufficiently large for their needs."
"Has papa subscribed?"
"Yes, dear; it was he who started the subscription paper."
"Were none of the children hurt at all?" asked Edna.
"One of them, the youngest was slightly burned, for she was asleep when
the fire broke out. It was in saving her that Cap'n Si was burned."
"Are they going to ask those young men on the yacht to give something?"
asked Edna. "They are not going off till this afternoon, you know."
"We didn't think of them, did we?" said Mrs. Ramsey to her husband.
"That is true, we didn't and most of them can well afford to make a
contribution. I will see McAllister myself."
"What can we do?" asked Dorothy wistfully.
"Oh, yes, we want to help, of course," chimed in Jennie. "I will give
all the money I have left of my allowance, Mother, and all that is
coming to me for the rest of the time we are here."
"I think you'd better allow yourself a little, dear child, but I am
sure papa will advance you whatever he thinks is right for you to
give."
"I think I could give a dollar," said Edna after a pause. "I have that
much, and I am sure I don't have to spend it for I have six postage
stamps, that will make two a week till I get back home. Would a dollar
do any good, Mrs. Ramsey?"
"It would do a great deal of good, but instead of giving the money
outright how would you children like to buy materials to make fancy
articles for the bazar? In that way I haven't a doubt but you would get
a better return."
"I think that would be a fine plan," said Dorothy, for, to tell the
truth, her savings were of small account, and as she calculated she
told herself that thirty-five cents would be the very limit. Money
always burned a hole in Dorothy's pocket, and it was hard for her to
pass a candy shop without spending her pennies. Mrs. Ramsey knew this
and knew also that while Dorothy was quite as generous as the other two
she would have less to offer.
Both Jennie and Edna agreed with Dorothy that it was a very good plan
to spend the money in this way and they at once began to plan what they
should buy.
"I think we all might make a trip to Boston in a day or two," said Mrs.
Ramsey. "How would you like that? I think we might spend our money to
better advantage there."
"That would be simply perfect," cried one and another.
All this had made everyone entirely lose sight of Edna's headache and
it was not till Ben came in to say good-bye that anyone remembered it.
"Well, Ande," he said, "how's that head? A pretty trick you played on
us yesterday."
"I didn't play any trick. It was my head played me a trick."
"Oh, that was the way, was it? Well, how is the tricky head to-day?"
"Why, it is about well, I think."
"But you are not sure. I've known heads to act that way before. Let me
see how you look." He turned her around to the light. "A little pale I
should say. Did you eat any breakfast?"
"Oh, yes, I ate an egg and some milk-toast."
"Good enough. I reckon you'll do for a while. I say, wasn't it great
for Uncle Justus to sneak away from us all in that way? I didn't think
it was in the old chap. He wouldn't budge any more than a balky mule.
Soon as he heard you were alone and laid up with a headache off he must
trot in the other direction."
"I think it was perfectly lovely of him," said Edna earnestly.
"So it was, Pinky Blooms--by the way, you aren't Pinky Blooms to-day.
To tell you the truth if Uncle Justus hadn't made up his sedate mind to
come, yours truly intended to say ta-ta to the sailing party himself."
"Oh, Ben, did you really?"
"Yes, my lady, though it is too late in the day to make boastful
vaunts, and it would have spoiled Uncle Justus's little game if both
of us had come. Moreover, it wouldn't have been polite for all of us
to have fled from the sailing party. You see Mr. McAllister took Uncle
Justus's place and there would have been no one to take mine."
"Did you hear about the fire?" Edna asked next.
"Indeed I did, and I am glad enough that a plan is on foot to
raise money for those poor fisher people. I wonder who is receiving
subscriptions. All the fellows chipped in and I have quite a wad here
which I am instructed to turn over to the proper authorities."
"Oh, Mr. Ramsey is just the one, for he started the paper."
"Good! I'll get rid of it at once if you will help me find the
gentleman."
Edna was only too ready to do this and together they hunted up Mr.
Ramsey whom they found in the little room where he had his desk, and
which was called the smoking-room.
It was indeed quite a roll of bills which Ben handed over. The boys
said never mind specifying names, just say it is from the Pippin.
"Nobody knows how much anybody gave. We just passed around the hat and
this is the result."
"A pretty handsome result, I should say," remarked Mr. Ramsey much
pleased. "At this rate we shall be able to put up as good a house as
need be. Please thank the Pippin in the name of myself and the family
of Cap'n Si."
"I'll do it, sir. The boys were glad to come up to scratch."
"I think it is very lucky the fire was last night instead of to-night,"
remarked Edna gravely.
"And why?" asked Ben.
"Because if it hadn't been till to-night you all would be gone and then
you wouldn't have passed around the hat."
Both Mr. Ramsey and Ben laughed at this subtle reasoning, and then Ben
said he must say good-bye to Mrs. Ramsey, so they went out leaving Mr.
Ramsey to other matters.
"I wish you would tell me why the yacht is called Pippin," said Edna.
"My dearest child, I see you do not make yourself acquainted with
slang, and far be it from me to intrude it upon your youthful
attention. If you were to ask Clem McAllister why he named it that he
would say, 'Because she is such a pippin,' meaning a beauty, and that
is all there is of it."
Edna understood by this that a pippin was another name for a beauty and
was quite satisfied. She had two brothers of her own, and cousin Ben
had passed the previous year at her home; therefore she was not at all
unfamiliar with boyish slang.
The good-byes to Mrs. Ramsey and the other two little girls being
made Ben took his departure, telling Edna she would see him early in
the fall, and as Uncle Justus would not on any account leave without
learning how Edna was, his was the next call. It was not a long one,
for the yacht was to leave the harbor early and there was not much time
left though Edna managed to tell about the fire and the bazar, and to
send a great many messages to all at home whom Uncle Justus would see
before she herself would.
Edna felt a little homesick and lonely after these two relatives
had left her. She was still a little the worse for her yesterday's
illness, and wished for mother and Celia, for her father and the boys.
It certainly would be very good to see them again, and she was glad
that in two weeks she would be turning her face toward home. But these
thoughts did not last long, for Jennie called her to come and see the
pile of clothes her mother had laid aside for Cap'n Si's grandchildren,
and began to tell of the many things which they could make for the
bazar, so she was soon interested in all this.
"We are going to see Miss Newman and Miss Eloise after lunch," Jennie
told her, "for we want to tell everyone about the bazar, and they will
be so interested on account of Amelia."
"We might stop at the hotel, too," suggested Edna, "and I can tell my
aunt about it, then she can tell the other people there and we might
get a lot of things from them."
"That will be a fine plan," declared Jennie. "We will go with mother in
the automobile for she wants to see Mrs. Duncan. A lot of ladies are to
meet here to-morrow to make all the arrangements, and mother wants to
tell Mrs. Duncan to come."
So there was quite enough on hand to drive away homesickness, and Edna
started out with the rest with no thought of anything but the bazar and
the promised trip to Boston.