CHAPTER XVII
THE FATE OF DANA COTTAGE
Pinkie was enraptured at her first sight of Dana Cottage. She sat downin front of it and gazed in silence, seemingly unable to take it all inat once.
“Well,” she said at last, “it’s a lovely home for dolls, but wouldn’t itbe a fine place for fairies?”
Dolly laughed, for she hadn’t the firm belief in fairies that Pinkiehad. Dolls were good enough for her, and as Pinkie loved dolls too, theyspent many happy hours with the playhouse.
Sometimes Dick and Jack played with them, and sometimes the boys wentoff on their own sports, while the girls were absorbed in the dolls’house.
One afternoon the boys were busily engaged in making and flying kites,and the girls, up in the playroom, were having lots of fun with DanaCottage, but paused in their play frequently, to run and look out of thewindow to see how the kites were flying.
“I don’t believe they’ll ever make them go,” said Pinkie, as she andDolly leaned out of the playroom window. “The kites are too big.”
“Then they’ll have to trim ’em off, or make smaller ones,” said Dolly,philosophically. “I don’t see any fun in kite-flying anyway, justbecause they ’most never do fly.”
“Wouldn’t it be funny,” said Pinkie, “if you could fly a kite,’way—’way up in the air, and then pull it down again, and find a wholelot of fairies perched on it?”
“Yes; that would be fine. But fairies don’t live up in the air.”
“No; they live in the woods, hidden by the ferns and leaves. I wish Icould ever see them.”
“Well, you can’t, ’cause they only come out at night. You can’t go tothe woods at night, can you?”
“I will, when I’m grown up. ’Course, mother won’t let me now, but whenI’m big, the first thing I’m going to do is to go to the woods, and campout all night, and watch for fairies.”
“All right; I’ll go with you. We’ll surely see them then.”
“Yes, indeed, we will. Oh, I wish we could go now!”
“Well, we can’t. Aunt Rachel wouldn’t let me, and I know your motherwouldn’t let you. Come on, those kites will never fly; let’s go on withthe party.”
The doll family in Dana Cottage were giving a very grand party. As therewere no other dolls to invite, Pinkie and Dolly had made a lot of paperdolls for the guests. These were not elaborate, being hastily cut frombrown paper, but they wanted a lot of guests, so they chopped out amultitude of dolls, and stood them around in the various rooms of thedoll house.
“I wish we’d made them prettier,” said Dolly, regretfully, for herartistic sense was jarred upon by the crude brown paper guests in thedainty, pretty rooms.
“So do I,” agreed Pinkie. “Let’s dress them up a little, somehow.”
So they found colored tissue paper, and bedecked the dolls with floatingsashes and scarfs and head-dresses, until they presented a much morefestive appearance.
“That’s lots better,” declared Dolly, as they placed the improved ladiesand gentlemen at the party. So many did they have, that the parlour wasfilled with dancers, and the dining-room with supper guests at the sametime.
Pinkie was of a realistic turn of mind, and insisted on having bits ofreal cracker or cake or apple in the dishes on the table, and real waterin the pitchers and coffee pots on the sideboard.
Dolly was quite content to have scraps of paper for cakes, or even emptydishes filled merely with imagination, but when Pinkie played with herthey usually had real things wherever possible.
The china dolls of the family, and the paper guests kept up a continuousconversation, and the voices were either Pinkie’s or Dolly’s as occasionrequired. A deep, gruff voice represented a gentleman talking, and ahigh, squeaky voice, a lady.
“What a beautiful party we’re having,” said a brown paper man in Dolly’sdeepest chest tones.
“Yes,” squeaked a lovely lady, in light blue crinkled tissue paper.“Please get me a glass of lemonade.”
The brown gentleman deftly poured about two drops of water from a tinypitcher into a tinier cup, and gallantly offered it to the lady.
It accidentally soaked her tissue paper scarf, as she drank it, but twodrops wouldn’t hurt anybody’s costume seriously, so the incident wasoverlooked, and the gay chatter went on.
“Are you going to opera to-morrow night?” asked one bewitching belle ofanother.
“Oh, yes,” was the reply. “I’m so fond of music. I practise an hourevery day.”
“So do I. I’m learning to sing, too. That’s why I wear this boa, I haveto take such care of my throat.”
“Are you warm enough here?” inquired the china hostess, who overheardher paper guests’ conversation; “because, if you aren’t, we can light afire for you.”
“I do feel a little chilly,” began the paper belle, and then Pinkie’svoice suddenly resumed its natural tones:
“Oh, Dolly, let’s make a fire in the little stove,—a _real_ fire. Yousaid your aunt used to do it.”
“Yes, she did,” said Dolly. “Do you know how?”
“Why, yes; you only put in snips of paper and light ’em. The smoke goesout through the pipe.”
Carefully, the girls put crumpled bits of paper into the little ironstove, and then Dolly brought a match.
“You light it,” she said, and Pinkie struck the match, and touched offthe paper.
They shut the tiny stove door, and the paper blazed away merrily. Somesmoke came out through the tin pipe, but there wasn’t much of it, and asthe windows of the playroom were all wide open, the smoke soon driftedaway.
This was a great game indeed, and the guests from the parlour allcrowded down into the dining-room to get warm.
There was much laughing and chatter, as the paper dolls came down to thedining-room, and packed themselves in groups against the walls.
“Oh, how good that fire feels,” exclaimed a lady in pink paper. “Why,it’s all gone out!”
It was astonishing how fast the paper in the stove burned itself out,and the girls had to renew it repeatedly, and light it afresh each time.
“I’m ’bout tired of playing this,” said Pinkie; “let’s make one morefire and that’ll be the last. It’s getting awful hot.”
“Yes, make one more,” said Dolly, “for Mrs. Obbercrombie has just comedown to get warm.”
“All right; stand her up by the stove.”
Pinkie touched off the newly-laid fire, and Dolly stood paper Mrs.Obbercrombie up near the stove; so near, in fact, that the lady fellover against it.
Dolly reached out to pick her up, but her finger touched the hot stove,and she drew it back with an “Ouch!” The little stove, from the burningof much paper, was nearly red-hot, and when the paper doll fell overagainst it, she blazed up immediately.
Then the paper dolls nearest her caught fire at once, and in two secondsthe paper dolls were all ablaze. The tissue paper scarfs communicatedthe flames like tinder; the thicker paper of the dolls themselves burnedsteadily, and in a few moments the curtains caught, then the woodenhouse itself, and as the breeze from the open windows fanned it, a realconflagration of Dana Cottage ensued!
Soon the paper grass in the cottage yard caught fire, and the woodenanimals served as further fuel.
Dolly, her smarting finger still in her mouth, was too frightened evento scream, but Pinkie showed real presence of mind.
She grasped a pitcher of water from the table, and dashed it into theburning house. This was good as far as it went, but it merely checkedthe flames in one room, and there was no more water about. Then Pinkieseized the big rug from the floor, with intent to throw it over thehouse. But it was so anchored with heavy tables and other furniturethat, of course, she could not budge it.
“Oh!” she gasped at last. “Do something, Dolly! Yell, can’t you? I don’tseem to have any voice!”
Sure enough, poor little Pinkie was so frightened that her voice hadfailed her, an
d Dolly was so frightened, she couldn’t _think_ what todo.
So, at Pinkie’s suggestion, she yelled, and Dolly’s yell was that of ayoung, sound pair of lungs.
“Auntie!” she screamed. “Michael!” But as the playroom was on the thirdfloor, and the aunts were down in the library, they did not hear her.Nor were the servants within ear-shot, so poor Dolly screamed in vain.
But as the flames grew bigger and threatened the window curtains of theplayroom, Dolly shouted again, and this time a wild, despairing shriekof “Dick!” seemed to be her last resort.
And, by chance, the boys, with their kites, were not far from the house,and they heard the cry ring out of the playroom window.
“Hello, Dolly!” shouted Dick, back again, not thinking of danger, butmerely supposing Dolly was calling to him.
His voice reached Dolly’s ears like a promise of hope, and flying to thewindow, where the curtains were already scorching, she screamed, “Fire,Dick! Call Michael! Pat! Bring water! Fire! Fire!”
Even as Dolly shouted, Dick and Jack saw the flames, and Dick cried out,“I’ll go for Michael; you go upstairs, Jack, and screech for Aunt Rachelas you go.”
So the two Dana ladies were startled from their quiet reading, by seeingJack Fuller dash madly in at the front door, and whipping off his cap byinstinct, almost pause, as he said politely, but hastily, “Please, MissRachel,—good-afternoon. Your house is on fire! Excuse me!” and he ranbreathlessly by the library door and up the stairs.
He couldn’t do a thing when he reached the playroom, for the flames werebeyond the efforts of a ten-year-old boy.
But Dolly, who had found her wits, cried, “Pull down the curtains,” andshe and Jack bravely pulled down a pair of light muslin curtains thathad already begun to burn. They stamped on these, and so extinguishedtheir flames, and Pinkie, in her excitement, pulled down another pairand stamped on them, although they had not caught fire at all, and,indeed, were in no danger of it.
But by that time, Michael and Pat had arrived. Passing the tremblingaunties on the lower landing, they tore upstairs, and Dick followedclosely at their heels.
Michael took in the situation at one glance.
“Take holt av the table,” he said to Pat, and the two strong men hustledthe big table off the rug. Then they flung aside the chairs and otherfurniture that held the rug down, and, picking up the big carpet, flungit over the burning playhouse. The house toppled over with a crash, andthe men trampled on the whole pile.
They smashed everything belonging to Dana Cottage, but it was the onlyway to conquer the flames, and Michael did not hesitate.
“Keep it up!” he said to Pat, and as Pat obediently stamped his big feetabout, Michael turned to other parts of the room.
He stepped on a few smouldering papers, he pinched out a tiny flame in acurtain ruffle, and he threw a small rug over an already blazingwaste-basket.
He unceremoniously pushed aside any children who got in his way, forMichael was very much in earnest. And he had reason to be. His promptand speedy action had probably saved the whole house from burning down,and after he was sure there was no lurking flame left anywhere, heturned to the two ladies, who stood white-faced and trembling on thethreshold.
“All right, Miss Rachel,” he said, cheerily; “the baby-house is donefor, but we’ve saved Dana Dene from burnin’ up intirely.”
“Is everybody safe?” asked Miss Rachel, bewildered with the suddennessand terror of it all.
“Safe an’ sound, ma’am. Now, don’t dishturb yersilves further, but youan’ Miss Abbie an’ the childher go back downstairs, an’ me an’ Pat’ll beafther cleanin’ up some here.”
“But Dolly is burned!” cried Miss Abbie, seeing Dolly still holding outher blistered finger, and screwing her face in pain.
“No,” said Dolly, “I did that before the fire. It’s nothing.”
“It’s an awful blister,” said Dick, looking at it. “But how did the firestart, Dollums? Did you do it?”
“Yes,” said Dolly, “but I didn’t mean to burn up the cottage.” And then,as Michael and Pat were removing the big rug, and she saw the dreadfuldevastation of the beautiful dolls’ house, she burst into paroxysms ofweeping.
Pinkie did the same, and as the aunts were both softly crying, too, Dickand Jack had to be very careful lest they join the majority.
“Go downstairs, all of yez,” said Michael, again, who had, by reason ofhis common sense, assumed dictatorship. “Oh, are ye there, Hannah? Takethe ladies down, and mend up Miss Dolly’s finger. Boys, ye can shtay, ifye like, but the rest of yez must go.”
Obediently, the aunties followed Hannah, who led the weeping Dolly, andwith Pinkie trailing along behind, they went downstairs.
“Now, boys,” said Michael, “ye can help if ye like, an’ ye needn’t, ifye don’t like. Pat an’ me, we’ll clear out this burnt shtuff, butMashter Dick, suppose ye look about now, an’ see if anny of the toys isworth savin’.”
So Dick and Jack picked out some few things that the flames hadn’tdestroyed. But only china or metal toys escaped utter destruction, andthese were so smoked and charred, that they weren’t much good. Pinkie’shat and jacket were scorched, but Jack laid them aside, and the work ofsalvage went on.
“There now, ye’d betther go,” said Michael; “ye’re good boys, an’ ye’vehelped a lot, but now, me’n Pat, we’ll cart this shtuff down oursilves.An’ be the same token, I’m thinkin’ we’ll dump it out the windy,—thatbein’ the quickest way.”
So Dick and Jack ran downstairs, really anxious to join the girls andfind out how it all came about.