“You should have called the doctor then.”
“Why, dear, I tell you he seemed just the same. He almost always lies down when he comes home now. You know that.”
“Forgive me, Lyddy!” exclaimed ’Phemie, contritely. “Of course you are just as careful of father as you can be. But–but it’s so awful to see him lie like this.”
“He fainted without my knowing a thing about it,” moaned Lyddy.
“Oh! if it’s only just a faint – ”
“He couldn’t even have heard the noise upstairs over the fire.”
Just then a stream of water descended through the cracked bedroom ceiling, first upon the back of ’Phemie’s neck, and then upon the drugget which covered the floor.
“Suppose this ceiling falls, too?” wailed Lyddy, wringing her hands.
“I hope not! And we’ll have to pay the doctor when he comes, Lyd. Have you got money enough in your purse?”
“I–I guess so.”
“I’ll not have any more after this week,” broke out ’Phemie, suddenly. “They told me to-day the rush for Easter would be over Saturday night and they would have to let me go till next season. Isn’t that mean?”
Lydia Bray had sat down upon the edge of their father’s bed.
“I guess everything has happened at once,” she sighed. “I don’t see what we shall do, ’Phemie.”
There came a scream from Aunt Jane. She charged into the bedroom wildly, the back of her dress all wet and her bonnet dangling over one ear.
“Why, your parlor ceiling is just spouting water, girls!” she cried.
Then she turned to look closely at the man on the bed. “John Bray looks awful bad, Lyddy. What does the doctor say?”
Before her niece could reply there came a thundering knock at the hall door.
“The doctor!” cried ’Phemie.
Lyddy feared it was the young stranger returning, and she could only gasp. What should she say to him if he came in? How introduce him to Aunt Jane?
But the latter lady took affairs into her own hands at this juncture and went to the door. She unlocked and threw it open. Several helmets and glistening rubber coats appeared vaguely in the hall.
“Getting wet down here some; aren’t you?” asked one of the firemen. “We’ll spread some tarpaulins over your stuff. Fire’s out–about.”
“And the water’s in,” returned Aunt Jane, tartly. “Nice time to come and try to save a body’s furniture – ”
“Get it out of the adjusters. They’ll be around,” said the fireman, with a grin.
“How much insurance have you, Lyddy?” demanded the aunt, when the firemen, after covering the already wet and bedraggled furniture, had clumped out in their heavy boots.
“Not a penny, Aunt Jane!” cried her niece, wildly. “I never thought of it!”
“Ha! you’re not so much like your mother, then, as I thought. She would never have overlooked such a detail.”
“I know it! I know it!” moaned Lyddy.
“Now, you stop that, Aunt Jane!” exclaimed the bolder ’Phemie. “Don’t you hound Lyd. She’s done fine–of course she has! But anybody might forget a thing like insurance.”
“Humph!” grunted the old lady. Then she began again:
“And what’s the matter with John?”
“It’s the shop, Aunt,” replied Lyddy. “He cannot stand the work any longer. I wish he might never go back to that place again.”
“And how are you going to live? What’s ’Phemie getting a week?”
“Nothing–after this week,” returned the younger girl, shortly. “I sha’n’t have any work, and I’ve only been earning six dollars.”
“Humph!” observed Aunt Jane for a second time.
There came a light tap on the door. They could hear it, for the confusion and shouting in the house had abated. The fire scare was over; but the floor above was gutted, and a good deal of damage by water had been done on this floor.
It was a physician, bag in hand. ’Phemie let him in. Lyddy explained how her father had come home and lain down and she had found him, when the fire scare began, unconscious on the bed–just as he lay now.
A few questions explained to the physician the condition of Mr. Bray, and his own observation revealed the condition of the tenement.
“He will be better off at the hospital. You are about wrecked here, I see. That young man who called me said he would ring up the City Hospital.”
The girls were greatly troubled; but Aunt Jane was practical.
“Of course, that’s the best place for him,” she said. “Why! this flat isn’t fit for a well person to stay in, let alone a sick man, until it is cleared up. I shall take you girls out with me to my boarding house for the night. Then–we’ll see.”
The physician brought Mr. Bray to his senses; but the poor man knew nothing about the fire, and was too weak to object when they told him he was to be removed to the hospital for a time.
The ambulance came and the young interne and the driver brought in the stretcher, covered Mr. Bray with a gray blanket, and took him away. The interne told the girls they could see their father in the morning and he, too, said it was mainly exhaustion that had brought about the sudden attack.
Aunt Jane had been stalking about the sloppy flat–from the ruined kitchen to the front window.
“Shut and lock that kitchen window, and lock the doors, and we’ll go out and find a lodging,” she said, briefly. “You girls can bring a bag for the night. Mine’s at the station hard by; I’m glad I didn’t bring it up here.”
It was when Lyddy shut and locked the kitchen window that she remembered the young man again. The plank had been removed, the laboratory window was closed, and the place unlighted.
“I guess he has some of the instincts of a gentleman, after all,” she told herself. “He didn’t come back to bother me after doing what he could to help.”
Two hours later the Bray girls were seated in their aunt’s comfortable room at a boarding house on a much better block than the one on which the tenement stood. Aunt Jane had ordered up tea and toast, and was sipping the one and nibbling the other contentedly before a grate fire.
“This is what I call comfort,” declared the old lady, who still kept her bonnet on–nor would she remove it save to change it for a nightcap when she went to bed.
“This is what I call comfort. A pleasant room in a house where I have no responsibilities, and enough noise outside to assure me that I am in a live town. My goodness me! when Hammond came along and wanted to marry me, and I knew I could leave Hillcrest and never have to go back – Well, I just about jumped down that man’s throat I was so eager to say ‘Yes!’ Marry him? I’d ha’ married a Choctaw Injun, if he’d promised to take me to the city.”
“Why, Aunt Jane!” exclaimed Lyddy. “Hillcrest Farm is a beautiful place. Mother took us there once to see it. Don’t you remember, ’Phemie? She loved it, too.”
“And I wish she’d had it as a gift from the old doctor,” grumbled Aunt Jane. “But it wasn’t to be. It’s never been anything but a nuisance to me, if I was born there.”
“Why, the view from the porch is the loveliest I ever saw,” said Lyddy.
“And