Janice Day, the Young Homemaker

  CHAPTER XXV. ABEL STROUT AT THE ROOT OF IT

  The shock of seeing the chimney on fire did not overcome JaniceDay as much as the thought that daddy was lying down, resting, inthe living room, and that she would never be able to get him upand into his wheelchair and out of doors before the whole housewas in a blaze.

  For those lurid flames darting out of the chimney looked veryterrifying indeed. Bertha Warring ran out into the street,screaming; but Janice darted back into the house.

  Somebody outside screamed. "Fire! Fire!" Janice believed it musthave been Miss Peckham. Little ever got past the sharp eyes ofthat neighbor in the next cottage.

  Janice heard her father ejaculate some exclamation, but she didnot go to him first. She rushed, instead, to the telephone inthe hall.

  Seizing the receiver, she rattled the hook up and down, hoping toget a quick response.

  "Janice!" she heard her father call.

  "Yes, Daddy. I'm coming!" she cried. Then her ear came theleisurely question:

  "Number, please?"

  "Central! give me the Fire Department--please!" ejaculated theexcited girl.

  "Number, please?" again drawled the unruffled Central.

  "Oh, quick! Quick!" cried Janice into the instrument. "Give methe Fire Department. Our house is on fire!"

  "Great heavens!" ejaculated her father from the living room. Hewas awake and heard Janice now.

  "Do be quick, Central!" cried Janice. "The Fire De--"

  "Market, two, three hundred," said Central.

  "It's a wonder," thought Janice, even in her present state ofmind, "that she doesn't call 'Information'!"

  "Janice! Where is the fire?" called her father.

  "It's the chimney. Wait, Daddy! I'll come and help yon. Thekitchen chim-- Oh!"

  Somebody on the wire just then said crisply: "Central FireStation. What's wanted?"

  "Fire!" shouted Janice. "Our house! Eight-forty-five KnightStreet!"

  "I hear you!" exclaimed the man at the other end, and Janicealmost threw the receiver back on the hook, and darted into theliving room.

  Mrs. Carringford happened to be out. Janice, now that BerthaWarring had deserted her, was all alone in the house with theinjured man.

  "Oh, Daddy!" she gasped, seeing him already in his chair.

  "Give me a push, child. Where is the fire? This is somethingnew--the first time the Days were ever burned out."

  "It's the kitchen chimney. But I can't get you down the frontsteps--"

  Meanwhile she was pushing him out on the porch. People wererunning toward the house now and many were shouting. But it didnot look like a very helpful crowd.

  Just then Janice saw a wagon being driven rather wildly along thestreet toward the house. It was not a part of the FireDepartment equipment, although she looked eagerly for that. Thenearest fire station was fully half a mile from the Day house.

  The children in the street scattered as the horse's pounding feeton the macadam warned them of his approach. The driver stood up,his feet braced against the dashboard, yelling to the horse tostop as he swung back on the reins.

  It was Gummy!

  "Hi, Janice! Your chimneys on fire!" he shouted, when he hadstopped the horse.

  "Well, for goodness sake!" exclaimed Janice, "doesn't he supposewe know it, with all this crowd--and noise --and everything?"

  Gummy tumbled out of the covered wagon. He came down on allfours, he was in such a hurry; but he was up again in a moment.

  "Hi, Janice! I can put it out, if I can get out on to that ellroof through that little window up there." he cried.

  "That's the hired' girl's room," gasped Janice.

  "What's he going to do? Take pails of water out there and throwthem down the chimney?"

  "Give the boy a chance," said daddy. "Maybe he can dosomething." And to Janice's amazement, her father was smiling.

  Gummy ran around to the back of the wagon. He dropped thetailboard, backed around, and got a bag on his shoulders. Withthis he staggered toward the house.

  "Oh, Gummy!" screamed Janice, "what have you got in that sack?"

  "Salt," replied the boy, panting up the steps. "Half a shushalof balt. I was takin' it out to Jones's.

  "Salt?" gasped Janice, in her excitement not noticing at all thatGummy had again "gummed up his speech," to quote his ownexpression. "Why, what good is salt? That chimney is blazing."

  "Salt will do the trick. Show me the way to that window. Saltwill put out a fire in a chimney better than anything else."

  "Let him have his way, Janice," said her father quickly.

  She thought she heard the gong of some of the fire apparatusapproaching; but she was not sure. She gave Gummy a hand, andthey ran upstairs with the sack of salt between them.

  Here was the small room. She flung open the door and Gummy flungup the lower sash of the window. He almost dived out upon thetinned roof of the kitchen ell.

  "Quick! Give me that salt I" he cried reaching in for it.

  Janice helped him lift the bag out of the window. He dragged italong the roof toward the chimney that now vomited black smokeand flames in a very threatening volume. Fortunately the lightwind drifted it away from the main part of the house.

  "Oh, Gummy, you'll be burned to death--and then what will yourmother say?" cried Janice.

  Gummy was so much in earnest that he did not even laugh at this.He dragged the sack of salt as close to the burning chimney as hedared. Then he got out his pocketknife and cut the string.

  Everybody in the street below was yelling to him by this time,telling him what to do and how to do it. Gummy gave them littleattention.

  The smoke choked him and occasionally a tongue of flame seemed toreach for him. But Gummy Carringford possessed a good deal ofpluck, and he was strong and wary for so young a boy. Shieldinghis face as best he could from the heat and smoke, he began tocast double handfuls of salt into the chimney.

  The chimney was fortunately not as high as his head and Gummycould do this as well as a man. The soot which had gathered inthe chimney (perhaps it had not been cleaned out since the housewas built) was mostly at the bottom, and the flames came fromdown there; but the hot bricks would soon set the roof on fire,if not the walls inside the house.

  The salt smothered the fire wherever it landed. It was betterthan sand for such a purpose, for salt is damp and seems topossess smothering qualities all its own when rained upon theflames.

  Before half the contents of the bag had been thrown down thechimney the flames no longer leaped above its top. The smokecontinued to roll up, and Gummy had pretty well smothered ithimself when the Fire Department apparatus came clanging up tothe house.

  One of the fireman with a portable extinguisher rushed upstairs,got out at the small window and reached Gummy's side quickly.

  "Good boy, kid," he said. "Let's give it the lad," and he beganto squirt the contents of the fire extinguisher down the chimney.

  Gummy staggered back and sat down, coughing. His face and handswere pretty black and he was breathless. When he got backdownstairs and the firemen had declared the conflagrationentirely extinguished, Gummy found himself quite a hero.

  The excitement had hurt nobody, after all. Janice was glad Mrs.Carringford was not there at the time, or she certainly wouldhave been worried about Gummy.

  "You are an awfully smart boy, Gummy," Janice declared, clingingto the boy's hand. "I won't ever make fun of you again when youget mixed up in talking."

  Mr. Day overheard this and laughed heartily. He too, shook Gummycordially by the hand.

  "You have a head on you, son," he said. "How came you to thinkabout the salt?"

  "I saw a chimney on fire in the country once, and they put it outwith salt," the boy replied. "I've got to hurry back to thestore and get more salt for the Jones's now. I guess Mr.Harriman will be mad."

  "Oh, no he won't. I'll call him up on the telephone and tell himto put this sack on my account. He won't scold you, I am sure
,"said Mr. Day.

  In fact, everybody who heard about the matter praised GummyCarringford. They began to say "that boy with the funny name isconsiderable of a boy," and things like that. Mr. Day gave him alittle money, although Gummy did not want to take that.

  "You treat your little brothers and sisters with it, Janice'sfather said laughing. "They didn't have the fun of seeing youput out the fire."

  "We-ell," said the thoughtful boy, "I'll see what Momsy saysabout it first."

  When Mrs. Carringford returned to the house Mr. Day himself toldher of the fire and of what Gummy had done, and how proud sheshould be of him, too. And Mrs. Carringford was proud--Mr. Daycould see that.

  "Boys are awfully nice to have around the house, aren't they,Daddy?" Janice said that evening as they sat alone. "I never didthink before that I'd care to have a brother. You see, you arejust like a brother to me, Daddy."

  "I see," said Daddy, chuckling. "When it comes to chimney firesand such excitement, a boy comes in handy, is that it?"

  "Why--ye-es, Berta Warring ran away, crying, and I couldn't domuch but squeal myself," said Janice gravely.

  "And telephone for the Fire Department, and help me out, and aidGummy to carry up the salt, and--"

  "Oh, but, Daddy, those are all such little things!" sighedJanice.

  Janice thought things were going pretty well after that. Theywere so glad to have their house saved from destruction, and soproud of Gummy, that everybody seemed all right. But there wastrouble coming, and one afternoon Amy brought it to the Dayhouse.

  Amy, in tears, came to see her mother. Janice chanced to be inthe kitchen when she entered from the Love Street gate. Amy hadin tow a curly-haired dapper little man who looked too oily to behonest, and with little gimlet eyes that seemed to bore rightthrough one.

  "Oh, Mother!" gasped Amy, "this--this man's come to take ourhouse away from us!"

  "What is this now?" exclaimed Mrs. Carringford, in as muchsurprise as fear.

  "Yes, he has. He said so. He's got papers, and all," sobbedAmy.

  "Ahem! the young lady puts it very crassly indeed," said thecurly-haired man. "You, I presume, are Mrs. JosephineCarringford," he went on, reading from a paper.

  "Yes."

  "I am serving you in the suit of Mrs. Alice G. Blayne, ofCroydon, Michigan, my client, to recover a certain parcel ofproperty situated on Mullen Lane and now occupied by you and yourfamily, Mrs. Carringford," said the man glibly, and thrusting apaper into the woman's hand.

  "But I bought my home through Mr. Abel Strout, of Napsburg,"gasped Mrs. Carringford. She did not recognize Jamison, the farmhand, in the transaction at all. She now felt that man was butAbel Strout's tool.

  "Oh! As to that, I have nothing to say," said the curly-hairedlawyer, smiling in a way Janice did not like at all. "I merelyrepresent my client. The property has been claimed by severalpeople, I believe, and may have been sold a dozen times. Thatwill not invalidate my client's claim."

  "But I never even heard of this Mrs, Blayne," murmured Amy'smother.

  "A poor widow, ma'am," said the lawyer blandly. "And one who canill afford to lose her rights. She as heir of old PeterWarburton Blayne who lived in that house where you now reside fora great many years. He died. His heirs were not informed. Theplace was sold for taxes--for a nominal sum, ma'am. Of course, atax-deed has no standing in court if the real owner of theproperty comes forward ready to pay the back taxes, accruedinterest, and the fixed court charges."

  "But I got a warranty deed!" cried Mrs. Carringford.

  "That is a matter between you and the person you say you boughtthe house of," said the lawyer calmly. "If you consider that youhave a case against him you will have to go to court with him.Ahem! An expensive matter, my dear madam, I assure you.Probably the man who sold to you had every reason to believe hehad a clear title. It has passed through several hands sincePeter Blayne died, as I say.

  "I cannot advise you as to that, ma'am," pursued the lawyer."Those papers are in regard to this suit that is already enteredagainst you. Of course, it would be cheaper for you to settlethe case out of court; but you will probably want to fight us.Most women do."

  At this point Janice got to her feet and ran out of the room.She rushed in to where her father was writing on a lapboardacross the arms of his chair.

  Meanwhile Mrs. Carringford and Amy were clinging together andfacing the dapper, voluble, little lawyer in the kitchen. Amywas sobbing excitedly; but her mother said firmly:

  "Abel Strout is at the root of this--"

  "I assure you," said the lawyer politely, "my client is Mrs.Blayne. I have nothing to do with Abel Strout."

  "He is at the root of it, nevertheless," said Mrs. Carringfordconfidently. "I saw it in his eye when he was last in my house.He means to turn me and my children out, and ruin us!"