See that woman with four little ones. Her husband's carrying two more.

"I want to go howm. Why cain't we gow howm? I do' want to gow howm pretty soon. I want to gow na-ow!" Eh, Mary, how would you like to lug them around all day and then stand up in the cars all the way home?

Well, good-by. Hope you had a nice time. Give my regards to all the folks. Don't be in such a rush, my friend.... Oh, did you see? It must be the man that got hit on the head with the ladder. Taking him home on a stretcher. Gee! That's tough. Skull fractured, eh? Dear! Dear! I hear they have been keeping company a long time, and were to have been married soon. No wonder she cried and took on so. Poor girl! Yes, it's the women that suffer .... Oh, quite a day for accidents. I didn't mind, though, after I had changed my clothes. I took some quinine, and I guess I'll be all right. Lucky you got a seat. Well, you're off at last.

Good-by. Remember me to all. Good-by.

Well, thank goodness, that's over. Another ten minutes of them and wouldn't have--Well, Mary, what else could I do but ask them home after he told me what they didn't have to eat at the Ladies' Aid?... It was all right. Plenty good enough. Better than they have at home and I'll bet on it. The table looked beautiful. I'm glad the Tournament doesn't come but once a year. I'm about ready to drop.

THE DEVOURING ELEMENT

Mr. Silverstone was gloomily considering whether he had not better blow out the lights in the New York One Price Clothing Store, and lock up for the night. Kerosene was fifteen cents a gallon, and not a customer had been in since supper-time. Business was "ofle, simbly ofle."

The streets were empty. There were lights only in the barber shop where one patron was being lathered while two mandolins and a guitar gave a correct imitation of two house-flies and a bluebottle in Riley's where, in default of other occupation, Mr. Riley was counting up; in Oesterle's, where a hot discussion was going on as to whether Christopher Columbus was a Dutchman or a Dago, and in Miller's, where Tom Ball was telling Tony, who impa.s.sively wiped the perforated bra.s.s plate let into the top of the bar, that he, Tom Ball, "coul' lick em man ill Logan coun'y."

Lamps shone in every parlor, where little girls labored with: "And one and two, three and one and two, three," occasionally coming out to look at the clock to see if the hour was any nearer being up than it was five minutes ago. They also shone in sitting-rooms, where boys looked fiercely at "X2 +2Xy+y2," mothers placidly darned stockings, and fathers, Weekly Examiner in hand, patiently struggled to disengage from "boiler-plate" and bogus news about people s.n.a.t.c.hed from the jaws of death by the timely use of Dr. McKinnon's Healing Extract of Timothy and Red-top, items of real news, such as who was sick and what ailed them, who cut his foot with the ax while splitting stove-wood, and where the cake sale by the Rector's Aid of Grace P.E. would be held next week.

At the prayer-meeting, Uncle Billy Nicholson was giving in his experience and had just got to that part about: "Sometimes on the mountaintop, and sometimes in the valley, but still, nevertheless--" when, all of a sudden, something happened.

The mandolins stopped with a jerk. Mr. Riley stood tranced at: "And ten is thirty-five." Mr. Ball was stricken dumb in the celebration of his own great physical powers. The crowd in Oesterle's forgot Columbus, and were as men beholding a ghost. The drowsy congregation sat up rigid, and Mr. Silverstone gave a guilty start. He had been thinking of that very thing!

The next instant, front doors were wrenched open, and the street echoed with the sound of windows being raised. Fathers and sons rushed out on the front porch, followed by little girls, to whom any excuse to stop practising was like a plank to a drowning man.

They had heard aright. Up by the Soldiers' Monument fell the clump of tired feet, and upon the air floated the wild alarm of--.

"FIRE! Pooh-ha! FIRE! Poof! FIRE!"

Mat King, the a.s.sistant chief, kicked off his slippers, and swiftly laced up his shoes, grabbed his speaking-trumpet and his helmet, and tore out of the house. If he could only get to the engine-house before Charley Lomax, the chief! But Charley was the lone customer in the barber's char. With the lather on one side of his face, he clapped on his hat and broke for the firebell, four doors below.

"Where's it at?"

"FIRE! Pooh-ha! FIRE! Sm-poohl Fi--(gulp)--FIRE!"

"It's Linc Hoover. Hay, Linc! Where's the fire?"

"FIRE! Pooh-ha! FIRE! ha, ha! FIRE!"

"Hay, Linc! Where's it at? Tell me and I'll run. Hay! Where's it at?"

"FIRE! Swope's be--(gulp) Swope's barn. FIRE!"

"Which Swope? Henry or the old man?"

"FIRE! Pooh! J. K. Swope. Whoo-ha, whooh-ha! Out out on West End Avenue.

Poof!"

The news thus being pa.s.sed, the fresher runners scampered ahead, bawling: "FOY-URRR' FOY-URRR! and Linc, the hero, slowed down, gasping for breath and spitting cotton.

"Whew!" he whistled, gustily, his arms dropping and his whole frame collapsing. "Gee! I'm 'bout tuckered. Sm-pooh! Sm-pooh! Run all th'

way f'm--sm-ha, sm-ha!--run all th' way f'm--mouth's all stuck together--p'too! ha! Pooh! Fm West End Avenue and Swo--Swope's. Gee! I'm hot's flitter."

"Keep y' coat on when you're all of a prespiration, that way. How'd it ketch?"

"Ount know. 'S comin' by there an' I--whoof! I smelt smoke and--Gosh!

I'm all out o' breath--an' I looked an' I je-e-est could see a light--wisht I had a drink o' somepin' to rench mum mouth out. Whew! Oh, laws! An' it was Swope's barn and I run in an' opened the door, didn't stop to knock or nung, an' I hollered out: 'Yib barn's afire!' an' he run out in his sockfeet, an' he says: 'My Lord!' he says. 'Linc,' he says, 'run git the ingine an' I putt." Linc drew in a long, tremulous breath like a man that has looked on sorrow.

"Why 'n't you--"

"Betchy 't was tramps," interrupted a bystander. "Git in the haymow an'

think they got to have their blamed old pipe a-goin'--"

"Cigarettes, more likely," said another. "More darn devilment comes from cigarettes--"

"Why'n't you--"

"Ount know nung 'bout tramps," said Linc. "All I seen was the fire. I was a-comin' long a-past there an' I smelt the smoke an' thinks I--What say?"

"Why'n't you telefoam down?"

Linc, the hero, shrunk a foot. "I gosh!" he admitted, "I never thought to."

"Jist'a' telefoamed, you could 'a' saved yourself all that--"

"Ain't they weltin' the daylights out o' that bell? All foolishness! Now they're ringin' the number--one, two, three, four. Yes, sir, that's up in the West End. You goin'? Come on, then."

"No, Frank, I can't let you go. You've got your lessons to get. Well, now, mother, make up your mind if you're comin' along. Cora, what on earth are you doing out here in the night air with nothing around you?

Now, you mosey right back into that parlor, and don't you make a move off that piano-stool till your hour's up. Do you hear me? No. Frank.

I told you once you couldn't go and that ends it. Stop your whining! I can't have you running hither and yon all hours of the night, and we not know where you are. Well, hurry up, then, mother. Take him in with you.

Oh, just throw a shawl over your head. n.o.body 'll see you, or if they do they won't care." The apparatus trundles by, the bells on the trucks tolling sadly as the striking gear on the rear axle engages the cam. A hurrying throng scuffles by in the gloom. The tolling grows fainter, the throng thinner.

"Good land! Is she going to be all night? Wish 't I hadn't proposed it.

That's the worst of taking a woman anyplace. Fuss and fiddle by the hour in front of the looking-gla.s.s. Em! (Be all over by the time we get there) Oh, Em! Em!... EM! (Holler my head offl) EM!.... Well, why don't you answer me? Well, I didn't hear you. How much long--Oh, I know about-- 'Hour' you mean.... Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Conklin? h.e.l.lo, Fred.

Pleased to meet you, Miss Shoemaker. Yes, I saw in the paper you were visiting your sister. This your first visit to our little burg? Yes, we think it's quite a place. You see, we're trying to make your stay as interesting as possible.... Oh, no, not altogether on your account. No, no. Ha! Ha-ha-ha! Hum! ah!... Well, yes, if she ever gets done primping up. Oh, there you are. Miss Shoemaker, let me make you acquainted with my wife. Now, you girls'll have to get a move on if you want to see anything."

The male escorts grasp the ladies' arms and shove them ahead, that being the only way if you are ever going to get any place. The women gasp and pant and make a great to-do.

"Ooh! Wait till I get my breath. Will! Weeull! Don't go so fay-ust!

Oooh! I can't stand it. Oh, well, you're a man."

But when they turn the corner that gives them a good view of the blaze, fluttering great puffs of flame, and hear the steady crackle and snapping, as it were, of a great popper full of pop-corn, they, too, catch the infection, and run with a loud swashing and slatting of skirts, giggling and squealing about their hair coming down.

In the waving orange glare the crowd is seen, shifting and moving. It seems impossible for the onlookers to remain constant in one spot. The chief, Charley Lomax, is gesticulating with wide arm movements. He puts his speaking-trumpet to his mouth. "Yoffemoffemoffemoffemoffi" he says.

"Wha-at?" the men halloo back.

"Yoffemoffemoffemoffemoff."