Young lady, I want to make a record of this deed, as I have to report everything to the police department, you know. And I am proud to say, our records are never kept in the dark when visitors come in to see our engine house. Its seldom we can talk about, or show a page, with such a brave act as yours, written upon it.
Polly smiled. But it really wasnt anything to fuss over. It wasnt dangerous, you know, and for anyone who can climb as well as I can, it would have been cowardly to stand by and not act. You needed a light, agile climber whose weight would not break that leader away from the wall; and I happened to be that one.
The Chief and Mrs. Ashby exchanged glances, then laughed. I guess its no use trying to make a heroine of her she wont have it so! said he.
Then Eleanor spoke up. Thats because shes accustomed to doing such great deeds out in the mountains where she comes from walking on the heads of rattle-snakes, killing grizzlies and lions as if they were rabbits, saving a lot of tenderfeet from blizzards and landslides these are but a few of the little things she does out there!
The New Yorkers gasped in astonishment; even James, the butler, stood gaping with open mouth at a real live heroine never seen before by him except on the movie screen. So intensely interested was he, that he failed to hear his master enter by the front door, followed by a gentleman. They both
burst into the room and stood amazed.
Then Mr. Ashby apologised for the abrupt entrance: Dalken and I were at the Club when we heard of the fire so near my place. And when Dalken heard that it was Mrs. Wellingtons school-girls who were entertaining on the third floor, he came with me to see if his daughter is safe. Does anyone know where Elizabeth is?
Here right here, Mr. Dalken, Mrs. Ashby quickly assured the father. And she beckoned Mrs. Wellington to bring the girl from the alcove where she had been resting.
My poor little girl! quavered the father, taking the meek and broken-spirited Elizabeth in his arms. Are you badly hurt?
She began to cry softly against his coat collar but Mrs. Ashby reassured Mr. Dalken. Only a scratch. Her forehead may swell a bit and be discolored for a few days, but that is all. Elizabeth owes her life to these two girls here, Mr. Dalken. One carried her out of the building after she had fainted, and the other went first and found a way down the back stairs.
Not really! the amazed man gasped. Tell me about it.
But Polly was a poor narrator, so Anne decided to speak. She was bound that Polly should not belittle this deed as she had the climbing to the fourth floor of the burning building.
That Mr. Dalken was deeply moved, everyone could see, and when he shook hands with the two girls he said gravely, I shall never forget how you kept me from being childless. My baby boy died three years ago to-night, and I could not have stood losing my little girl, too, on the anniversary of that sad experience.
Elizabeth then remembered the date and hiding her face, ran back to the alcove to cry softly to herself. Mrs. Ashby and Mrs. Wellington knew the sad story, so they allowed her to weep alone. But Mr. Dalken, tender-hearted, would have gone to comfort the girl, had not Mrs. Ashby placed a detaining hand upon his arm and said: No, dear friend better leave her to remember and realize everything.
Polly and Eleanor saw and heard and could not understand, but they thought it was no concern of theirs, so they forgot it.
Everyone had been introduced informally to everyone else, and at last Mrs. Ashby said: I have had a bit of refreshment served for you, in the dining room, before you go home. After such exposures and excitement, I think we all will need something.
Mr. Fabian wished to excuse himself, but his friends would not hear of it. Then Mr. Dalken came over and spoke to him. Are you Mr. Fabian, the artist?
They say I am an artist, but I doubt it, myself, replied Mr. Fabian, humbly, but smiling at the questioner.
Then I am delighted to have met you, for I have a niece studying in Paris, and she writes me pages upon pages about Mrs. Fabian and the daughter Nancy, and how lovely they have been to take her about with them.
His wife and daughter were Mr. Fabians pet subject so now he seemed to expand marvellously, and smiled benignly upon everyone present. On the way to the dining-room, Mr. Dalken and the artist exchanged heart-to-heart ideas and were soon fast friends.
But scarcely had they seated themselves ere another mad peal of the door-bell took James from the pleasant task of serving an impromptu supper. He was heard arguing with someone in the hall, then Mrs. Ashby turned to her husband and said: You go and see what is the matter.
After a short time, three re-entered the room James, Mr. Ashby, and an ambitious-looking young man with alert bright eyes.
Representative from the Press wants us to give him all the inside news about the fire, explained Mr. Ashby, looking at the circle about the table.