CHAPTER VII.

MARION PROVES HERSELF A HEROINE.

“An hour and a half! Well, that isn’t so bad. Bert must have had time to get a boarding place by this time.”

Marion Marlowe glanced up at the tiny nickel clock as she spoke, and both she and her sister laughed a little nervously.

“I never talked to Silas so much in all my life,” said Dollie, merrily. “But I kept thinking of Bert, and just went on talking and talking.”

“And how polite I was to that brute, Matt Jenkins,” laughed Marion. “Oh, well, we had to do it to save poor Bert. He’s well worth the sacrifice we made for him, Dollie.”

“I should say so,” said Dollie, “but it is awfully late, Marion, and I’m tired and sleepy.”

“It seems to me I smell smoke,” was Marion’s only answer.

She went to the door and opened it cautiously.

Slowly a great volume of smoke came rolling up the stairway.

“The house is on fire! I am sure of it!” cried Marion, sharply. “Oh, Dollie, I wonder if Miss Allyn is in. Quick! Get your hat on dear, while I run and warn her.”

Marion was up the stairs like a flash of lightning, and at the same moment there came cries and shrieks from every floor and landing.

“The house is on fire!” echoed from every side, and in an instant the halls were crowded with half-dressed men and women.

Great puffs of smoke came from all directions, and soon the frightened people could hear the woodwork snapping and crackling.

There were shrieks and orders, some hysterical and some calm, but in the excitement no one seemed to know just what to do or which way to go to secure their safety.

Marion pounded vigorously on Miss Allyn’s door, but could get no response, although she felt certain that her friend was within.

The smoke choked and stifled her, but she continued her frantic efforts to arouse her friend, although all the other roomers had disappeared in the darkness.

Suddenly new sounds fell distinctly upon her ear. The firemen had arrived; she could hear them racing up the stairs and shouting.

Just as her strength seemed giving out Miss Allyn opened her door. There was a gust of wind from the open window, then a sudden burst of flame in the hallway.

Marion staggered into the room and slammed the door behind her. In that awful moment she thought suddenly of Dollie.

The house was old and burned as rapidly as tinder. In spite of the furious streams of water that hissed and spurted upon it the flames ate their way ravenously to the very roof, flashing their long tongues of flame out of every window and thrilling with sensations of horror the thousands of spectators who had gathered in the streets.

One by one the roomers had been hurried out by the firemen, one of them carrying Dollie in his arms down the stairs and depositing her safely on the pavement.

“My sister! Oh, my sister!” shrieked Dollie, shrilly. “Oh, save my sister Marion and dear Miss Allyn!”

“Where are they?” asked a fireman who had heard her cry.

“Third floor, back,” answered Dollie in an agonized whisper.

The fireman shook his head.

“No use,” he muttered sadly. “The rear is gutted. If it was front we might save them.”

Suddenly a cry of terror went up from the crowd, then followed shouts of warning from a thousand throats, which were unintelligible to poor frightened Dollie.

The fireman looked up from the hose he was tending.

“My God, don’t jump!” he shouted, hoarsely. Dollie looked up and saw her sister standing on the sill of a third story window, her girlish form encircled by wreaths of smoke and long tongues of flame lapping the wall until they almost reached her.

Spell-bound with horror, Dollie stood and gazed as a long ladder was run up by an agile fireman.

The ladder was too short and another was handed up; Dollie meanwhile standing motionless as the crowd shouted about her.

“Quick, now! Jump!” ordered the fireman who had braced himself on the top of the ladder. “Jump right into my arms. Don’t be afraid. I’ll catch you!”

“Wait!” cried Marion, in clear, ringing tones.

The monster crowd stood silent—holding its breath in wonder.

Slowly and carefully Marion bent and reached into the room, keeping her balance by holding with one hand to the fast blistering casement.

“Her muscles must be like steel,” said a voice near Dollie. The young girl did not heed it. Her eyes were riveted upon her sister.

Then the crowd saw something that made them breathless. Marion was helping Miss Allyn to a place on the sill, and it looked for a moment as if the two girls were arguing with each other.

“Quick! There is no time to lose! Jump!” cried the fireman, sharply.

With a sudden violent motion, Marion pushed Miss Allyn from the sill. She landed squarely in the fireman’s arms and was promptly handed down the ladder.

At the next command Marion let go her hold. As she was caught by the fireman a great cheer went up—the crowd had recognized and were rewarding an unusual heroine.

A half hour later Marion opened her eyes. She had fainted and been carried by the crowd to the nearest drug store.

“Not a scratch,” said the physician who was bending over her. “She’ll be all right in an hour. All she needs is rest and a bath to make her less smoky.”

“I looked like a nigger when I first got here,” said Miss Allyn, laughing, “but as some one was kind enough to wash my face, I don’t feel quite so much like a herring.”

“I’m all right,” said Marion, with a feeble smile, “and if both of my friends are the same I am more than thankful.”

“We are safe and sound,” said Miss Allyn, calmly, “but I was as mad as a hornet when you pushed me, Marion. I thought of it myself, but I didn’t have the courage to do it.”

“If you had I would never have forgiven you,” said Marion, laughing. “You had befriended me once, it was my turn,” she added, then both girls turned solemnly and kissed each other.

“It was perfectly terrible,” said Dollie, who had not stopped crying. “I thought I would die when I first saw you, Marion.”

“Well, what will we do next?” asked Marion, as the crowd in the drug store dwindled gradually away. “You are so ready with advice, what do you suggest, Miss Allyn? Is there any place in New York for two girls to live who have no positions and not a cent of money?”

“Oh, Marion!” cried Dollie, “I didn’t once think of that. Our fifty dollars is burnt up and so is Bert’s cap and jacket and Miss Allyn’s typewriter.”

“Let me think,” said Miss Allyn, with a puzzled look. “If I was only dressed now I could go down to the office and get some money, but——” here she looked down at her wrapper and slippers disgustedly.

“You young ladies must let me provide for you,” said a gentleman, rushing in. “I have just heard of your bravery and am glad I have found you. Come, let me take you home to my wife for the night, young ladies. It is the least I can do to show my appreciation of such heroism.”

The girls all turned and looked at the speaker.

He was an elderly man, with such a kindly face that they were satisfied and glad to accept his kind offer.