"Huh! Mek a Blairsdale 'ceited?" retorted Mammy, as she started up to the attic. "Dey's got too much what dey _knows_ is de right stuff fer ter pester dey haids studyin' 'bout it; it's right dar all de endurin'

time; dey ain' gotter chase atter it lessen dey loses it."

"Was there ever such a philosopher as Mammy?" laughed Constance as they got beyond hearing.

"Wish there were a few more with as much sound sense--black or white--"

answered Eleanor as she shook out one of Jean's frocks and hung it across the clothes-line.

A moment later Mammy joined them with more garments which cried aloud for the glorious fresh air and sunshine. She hung piece after piece upon the line, giving a shake here, a pat there, or almost a caress upon another, for each one recalled to her loving old heart the memory of more prosperous days, and each held its story for her. When all were swinging in the sunshine she stepped back and surveyed the array, her mouth pursed up quizzically, but her eyes full of kindness.

"What are you thinking of Mammy?" asked Constance, slipping her fingers into Mammy's work-hardened hand very much as she had done when a little child.

"Hum; Um: What's I t'inkin' of? I'se t'inkin' dat ar lot ob clo'se supin lak we-all here: De'y good stuff in um, an' I reckon dey c'n stan' 'spection, on'y dey sartin _do_ stan' in need ob jist a _leetle_ spondulix fer ter put em in shape. Dar's _too much_ ob em spread all _ober_. What dey needs is ter rip off some o' dem _ruffles_ and jis hang ter de plain frocks ter tek keer ob. We spen's a heap ob time breshin' ruffles dat we better spen' tekin' keer ob de frocks in,"

concluded Mammy with a sage nod as she turned and walked into the house.

"Upon my word I believe Mammy's pretty near right Eleanor. We _have_ got a good many _ruffles_ to take care of on this big place and I sometimes feel that mother is wearing herself out caring for them.

Perhaps we would be wiser to give them up."

"Perhaps we would," agreed Eleanor, "but where will we go if we give up the home? We have hardly known any other, for we were both too little to think much about homes or anything else when we came into this one. For my part, I am ready to do whatever is best and wisest, although I love every stick and stone here. Mother has looked terribly worried lately although she hasn't said one word to me. Has she to you?

"No, nothing at all. But I know what you mean; her eyes look so tired.

I wonder if anything new has arisen to make her anxious. She says so little at any time. I mean to have a talk with her this evening if I can get a chance. Do you get Jean out of the way. She is such an everlasting chatterbox that there is no hope of a quiet half hour while she is around. Now let's take an inventory of this array and plan my frivolity frock," and Constance drew Eleanor down upon a rustic seat at one side of the lawn to discuss the absorbing question of the new gown to be evolved from some of the old ones which were swaying in the wind.

Perhaps a half hour pa.s.sed, the girls were giving little heed to time, for the drowsy dreamy influence of the afternoon was impressing itself upon them. Constance had planned the gown to the minutest detail, Eleanor agreeing and secretly marveling at her ability to do so, when both became aware of a strong odor of smoke.

"What is burning, I wonder?" said Constance, glancing in the direction of a patch of woodland not far off.

"Leaves, most likely. The Henrys' gardener has burned piles and piles of them ever since they began falling. I shouldn't think there would be any left for him to burn," answered Eleanor, looking in the same direction.

"It doesn't smell like leaves, it smells like wood, and--oh! Eleanor, Eleanor, look! look at your window! The smoke is just pouring from it!

The house is a-fire! Run! Run! Quick! Quick!"

CHAPTER IX

Spontaneous Combustion

Had the ground opened and disgorged the town, men, women and children could hardly have appeared upon the scene with more startling prompt.i.tude than they appeared within five minutes after Constance's discovery of the smoke. How they got there only those who manage to get to every fire before the alarm ceases to sound can explain, and, as usual, there arrived with them the over-officious, and the over-zealous.

As Constance and Eleanor rushed into the house, the mult.i.tude rushed across the grounds and followed them hotfoot, while one, more level-headed than his fellows, hastened to the nearest fire-box to turn in an alarm.

Meanwhile Mammy had also smelt the smoke, and as the girls ran through the front hall she came through the back one crying:

"Fo' de Lawd's sake wha' done happen? De house gwine burn down on top our haids?"

"Quick, Mammy. It's Eleanor's room," cried Constance as she flew up the stairs.

Mammy needed no urging. In one second she had grasped the situation and was up in Mrs. Carruth's room dragging forth such articles and treasures as she knew to be most valued and piling them into a blanket. There was little time to waste for the flames had made considerable headway when discovered and were roaring wildly through the upper floor when the fire apparatus arrived. Mrs. Carruth was out driving with a friend and Jean was off with her beloved Amy Fletcher.

Only those who have witnessed such a scene can form any adequate idea of the confusion which followed that outburst of smoke from Eleanor's windows. Men ran hither and thither carrying from the burning house whatever articles they could lay their hands upon, to drop them from the windows to those waiting below to catch them. Firemen darted in and out, apparently impervious to either flames or smoke, directing their hose where the streams would prove most effectual and sending gallons of water upon the darting flames. The fact that the fire had started in the third-story saved many articles from destruction by the flames, although the deluge of water which flooded the house and poured down the stairways like miniature Niagaras speedily ruined what the flames spared.

Eleanor rushed toward her room but was quickly driven back by a burst of flames and smoke that nearly suffocated her, while Constance flew to Jean's and her own room, meanwhile calling directions to Mammy.

Five minutes, however, from the time they entered the house they were forced to beat a retreat, encountering as they ran Miss Jerusha Pike, a neighbor who never missed any form of excitement or interesting occurrence in her neighborhood.

"What can I do? Have you saved your ma's clothes? Did you get out that mirror that belonged to your great-grandmother?" she cried, as she laid a detaining hand upon Constance's arm.

"I don't know, Miss Pike. Come out quick. It isn't safe to stay here another second. We must let the men save what they can. Come."

"No! No! I _must_ save your grandmother's mirror. I know just where it hangs. You get out quick. I won't be a second. Go!"

"Never mind the mirror, there are other things more valuable than that," cried Eleanor as she tugged at the determined old lady's arm.

But Miss Pike was not to be deterred and rushed away to the second story in spite of them.

"She'll be burned to death! I _know_ she will," wailed Constance, as a man ran across the hall calling:

"Miss Carruth, Miss Constance, where are you? You must get out of here instantly!"

"Oh, Mr. Stuyvesant, Miss Pike has gone up to mother's room and I must go after her."

"You must do nothing of the sort. Come out at once both of you. I'll see to her when I've got you to a place of safety," and without more ado Hadyn Stuyvesant hurried them both from the house to the lawn, where a motley crowd was gathered, and their household goods and chattels were lying about in the utmost confusion, while other articles, escorted by various neighbors, were being borne along the street to places of safety. One extremely proper and precise maiden lady was struggling along under an armful of Mr. Carruth's dress-shirts and pajamas brought forth from n.o.body knew where. A portly matron, with the tread of a general, followed her with a flatiron in one hand and a tiny doll in the other, while behind her a small boy of eight staggered beneath the weight of a wash boiler.

"Where is Mammy? O _where_ is Mammy?" cried Eleanor, clasping her hands and looking toward the burning building.

"Here me! Here me!" answered Mammy's voice as she hurried toward them with a great bundle of rescued articles. "I done drug dese yer t'ings f'om de burer in yo' ma's room an' do you keep tight fas' 'em 'twell I come back. Mind now what I'se telling' yo' kase dere's t'ings in dar dat she breck her heart ter lose. I'se gwine back fer sumpin' else."

"O Mammy! Mammy, _don't go_. You'll be burned to death," cried Constance, laying her hand upon Mammy's arm to restrain her.

"You mustn't Mammy! You mustn't," echoed Eleanor.

"Stay here with the girls, Mammy, and let me get whatever it is you are bent upon saving," broke in Hadyn Stuyvesant.

"Aint no time for argufying," cried Mammy, her temper rising at the opposition. "You chillun stan' _dar_ an' tek kere ob _dat_ bundle, lak I tell yo' an' yo', Ma.s.sa Stuyv'sant, come 'long back wid me," was the ultimatum, and, laughing in spite of the gravity of the situation, Hadyn Stuyvesant followed Mammy whom he ever afterward called the General.

As they hurried back to the kitchen entrance the one farthest removed from the burning portion of the building, Mammy's eyes were seemingly awake to every thing, and her tongue loosed of all bounds. As they neared the dining-room someone was dropping pieces of silver out of the window to someone else who stood just below it with skirts outspread to catch the articles.

"Ain' dat de very las' bit an' grain o' nonsense?" panted Mammy.

"Dey's a-heavin' de silver plate outen de winder, an' bangin' it all ter smash stidder totin' it froo' de back do', and fo' Gawd's sake look dar, Ma.s.sa Stuyv'sant! Dar go de' la.s.ses!" cried Mammy, her hands raised above her head as her words ended in a howl of derision, for, overcome with excitement the person who was dropping the pieces of silver had deliberately turned the syrup-jug bottom-side up and deluged the person below with the contents. Had he felt sure that it would have been his last Hadyn Stuyvesant could not have helped breaking into peals of laughter, nor was the situation rendered less absurd by the sudden reappearance of Miss Pike clasping the treasured mirror to her breast and crying:

"Thank heaven! Thank heaven I'm alive and have _saved_ it. _Where_, where are those dear girls that I may deliver this priceless treasure into their hands?"

"Out yonder near the hedge, Miss Pike. I'm thankful you escaped. They are much concerned about you. Better get along to them quick; I'm under Mammy's orders," answered Hadyn when he could speak.

Off hurried the zealous female while Hadyn Stuyvesant followed Mammy who was fairly snorting with indignation.

"Dat 'oman certain'y _do_ mak' me mad. Dat lookin' gla.s.s! Huh! I reckons when Miss Jinny git back an' find what happen she aint goin'

ter study 'bout no lookin' gla.s.ses. No suh! She be studyin' 'bout whar we all gwine put our _haids_ dis yere night. An' dat's what _I_ done plan fer," concluded Mammy laying vigorous hold of a great roll of bedding which she had carried to a place of safety just outside the kitchen porch. "Please, suh, tek' holt here an' holp me get it out yander ter de stable, I'se done got a sight o' stuff out dere a-reddy," and sure enough Mammy, unaided, had carried enough furniture, bedding and such articles as were absolutely indispensable for living, out to the stable to enable the family to "camp out" for several days, and with these were piled the garments hastily s.n.a.t.c.hed from the clothes-lines, Baltie mounting guard over all. Mrs. Carruth had not been so very far wrong when she told Mammy she believed she could move the house if necessity arose.