CHAPTER III.
FIRE.
For a few days after this, Dotty Dimple had little time to think of hernew resolution. Nothing occurred to call forth her anger, but a greatdeal to fill her with astonishment and awe.
The three little girls, for the first time in their lives, were learninga lesson in the uncertainty of human events. They had never dreamed thatanything about their delightful home could ever change. If they thoughtof it at all, they supposed their dear father and mother, and theirserene grandmamma Read, would always live, and be exactly as they werenow; that their home would continue beautiful and bright, and therewould be "good times" in it as long as the world stands.
It is true they heard at church that it is not safe for us to set ouraffections too strongly upon things below, because they may fail us atany moment, and there is nothing sure but heaven. Still, like mostchildren, they listened to such words carelessly, as to something vagueand far away. It was only when they were left, in one short day, withouta roof over their heads, that Susy sobbed out,--
"O, Prudy, this world is nothing but one big bubble!"
And Prudy replied, sadly,--
"Seems more like shavings!"
You all know how an innocent-looking fire-cracker set Portland ablaze,but you can have little idea of the terror which that woeful Fourth ofJuly night brought to our three little girls.
When I think of it now, I fancy I see them speeding up and down thatdeparted staircase, trying to help the men carry water to pour on theroof. The earnestness of their faces is very striking as Susy brandishesa pail, Dotty a glass pitcher, and Prudy a watering-pot, in the delusivehope that they are making themselves useful.
After this, when the children have had a troubled sleep, and wake in themorning to find the house actually on fire, the horror is somethingalways to be remembered. Flames are already bursting out of some of thelower windows. It is no longer of any use to pour water. There is notime to be lost. Mrs. Parlin hurries the children down stairs, and outof the house, under their grandmother's protection.
They thread their dismal way up town, through smoke and flame, Susyshedding tears enough to put out a common coal fire. It is, indeed, abitter thing to turn their backs upon that dear old home, and know for acertainty that they will never see it again! In the place where itstands there will soon be a black ruin!
"The fire is lapping and licking," says Prudy, "like a cat eatingcream."
"I hope it has a good time eating our house up!" cried Dotty, in wrath.
Susy groans. Dotty thinks they are going to be beggars in rags and jags.Prudy, always ready with her trap to catch a sunbeam, says that afterall there are other little girls in the world worse off than they are.Susy thinks not.
"O, children, you are young and can't realize it; but this is awful!"
Dotty tries to be more wretched than ever, to satisfy her eldestsister's ideas of justice. She sends out from her throat a sound ofagony, which resembles a howl.
Prudy's chief consolation is in remembering, as she says, that "Godknows we are afire." Prudy is always sure God will not let anythinghappen that is _too_ dreadful. She has observed that her mother is calm;and whatever mamma says and does always approves itself to this seconddaughter.
But Susy can only wring her hands in hopeless despair. She has helpedsave the books, still she "expects they will burn up, somehow, on theroad." Her pony has been trotting about through the night; his hair issinged, and she "presumes it will strike in and kill him." The worldis, to Susy's view, one vast scene of lurid horrors. If she couldn'tcry, she thinks she should certainly die.
But this strange night came to an end. Dreadful things may and do happenin this world, but, as a general rule, they do not last a great while.The fire did its work, and then stopped. It was fearful while it raged,and it left a pitiful wreck; still, as Mrs. Parlin said, it was "not sobad but it might have been worse." "Nothing," she always declared,"ought to make us really unhappy except sin."
"And here we are, all alive," said she, with tearful eyes, as she triedto put her arms around the three little girls at once. "All alive andwell! Let us thank God for that."
"I guess I shan't cry _much_ while I have my blessed mother to hold onto," said Prudy, pressing her cheek against Mrs. Parlin's belt-slide.
"Nor I neither," spoke up Dotty, very bravely, till a sudden spasm ofrecollection changed her tone, and she added, faintly, "If 'twasn't formy cunning little tea-set!"
"I shouldn't care a single thing about the fire," sobbed Susy, "if ithadn't burnt _our_ house up, you know. You see it was where we _lived_.We had such good times in it, with the rooms as pleasant as you canthink! Nothing in the world ever happened: and now that pony! O, dear,and my room where the sun rose! I don't know what's the matter with me,but _seems_ as if I should die!"
"And me, too," sighed Dotty. "I just about know that man threw mytea-set into the Back Cove; and now we haven't any home!"
"It is home where the heart is, children," said Mrs. Parlin, tenderly;but something choked her voice as she spoke.
Though she was never known, either then or afterwards, to murmur, stillit is barely possible she may have felt the loss of her precious home asmuch as even Susy did.
For the present the family were to remain at Mr. Eastman's; and it wasin the parlor chamber of that house that Mrs. Parlin and her threechildren were standing, glad to find themselves together once more,after the night of confusion.
Grandma Read, who was as patient as her daughter, "tried to gather intostillness," and settle herself as soon as possible to her Bible. But thechange from the Sabbath-like quiet of her old room to the confusion ofthis noisy dwelling must have tried her severely.
Mr. and Mrs. Eastman, and Mr. and Mrs. Parlin, were busy enough frommorning till night, day after day, searching for missing goods, andaiding the sufferers from the fire. The Eastman mansion was left to thetender mercies of the five children--the Parlins, and Florence, andJohnny.
Master Percy would probably look insulted if he were to be classed amongthe children. In his younger days he had had his share in ringingpeople's door-bells and then running away; now, in his maturer years, hedid not scruple to tease little folks, when they could be "tickled witha straw" held under the chin, or when they were easily vexed, andanswered him back with an angry word or a furious scowl. He liked totorture his "cousin Dimple." He said she shot out quills like a littleporcupine. She was a "regular brick," almost as smart as Johnny, andthat was saying a great deal; for Percy regarded the youthful Johnny asa very promising child. He was sorry to have him corrected for triflingfollies. If Percy had had the care of him, the little fellow would nothave lived long, for the older brother quite approved of such amusementsas crossing pins on the railroad track, running under horses' feet,and walking on the dizzy roof of a house.
Mr. Eastman was always very busy, and his wife had a deal of visiting todo, so it usually happened that Johnny had more liberty than was goodfor him.
Mrs. Parlin knew this, and did not like to have Dotty thrown very muchin his society, but just now it certainly could not be avoided; Dotty'sconstant desire to "get out doors and run somewhere" seemed to be fullygratified, for Johnny despised the inside of a house more than she did,and they both roamed about during the day like a couple of gypsies.
Sometimes Prudy went with them, but their games were rather rough forher taste. Susy and Florence were generally together, painting withwater-colors, pasting scrapbooks, and doing a variety of things inwhich they did not care to have Prudy join. The dear little girl mighthave been lonely, and possibly grieved, if she had been anything but a"bird-child." As it was, she sang when she had no one to talk with, and,whether the rain fell or the sun shone, always awoke with a smile, andfound the world as beautiful as a garden.
She amused herself by writing in her little red journal, which had comeout of the fire unharmed. Here is her account of the tragedy:--
"_July 7th._ I ought to tell about the fire; but I can't write with mothe
r's pen any more than Zip can write with a sponge.
"I am so sorry, but a boy fired a cracker. He didn't mean to burn up the city at all. He just touched it off for fun.
"There was going to be a procession, but I believe it didn't _process_. I never saw anything whiz and crack so in all my life! The fire danced and ran all over the city as if it was alive! It burnt just as if it was glad of it. The trees are all black where the green was scorched off. You wouldn't think it was summer. It doesn't look like winter. Father says it looks like a graveyard.
"Dotty lost her tea-set. Susy thought she should faint away, but she didn't--we couldn't find the camphor bottle. A man saved six eggs and the pepper box.
"It was real too bad _grandma's_ room was burnt up! When I went into grandma's room I used to feel just like singing. Mother says that isn't so bad as wickedness. She says it is 'home where the heart is.'
"Dotty hasn't had any temper for five days. Finis."
Just about this time a letter came from Willowbrook, saying Mrs.Clifford was quite ill, and asking Mrs. Parlin to go to her. Aunt Louisasaid it was fortunate that the children could stay at their auntEastman's. She did not know that Mrs. Parlin left them there veryreluctantly, having her own private fears that her youngest daughtermight fall into mischief.
Dotty kissed her mother good by, and promised to be perfect; but Mrs.Parlin knew too well how the child's resolutions were apt to wither awayfor want of root.