Ethel Morton at Chautauqua Part 12

"Are you hurt, dear child? Quick, tell me," demanded Mrs. Morton, while her father ran on to the scene of action.

"I'm not hurt. It's our house. I didn't help Ethel," cried the child.

"Where is Ethel? Is d.i.c.ky safe?"

The questions seemed to increase the child's agony.

"Can't you tell me? Oh, there's Grandmother with d.i.c.ky. Stay with her.

And--listen to me--"

Her aunt seized Ethel by the arm and looked her squarely in the eyes.

"You're perfectly safe here. Try to control yourself. Do whatever Grandmother says."

But the child was too wretched to be of any a.s.sistance until Mrs.

Emerson gave her a specified task.

"Take d.i.c.ky over to the Arcade," she directed, "and keep him there. Then I can go and help."

Ethel Blue obeyed miserably, for her very soul was ashamed of her fear.

Her father a soldier and she this weeping, curled-up bunch of cowardice! She burst into tears again as she crossed the green. d.i.c.ky, whom Mrs. Emerson had only partially succeeded in quieting, broke into renewed cries and the two soon became the center of a group of women whose sympathy served to increase the children's demonstrations.

"Poor lambs, they're frightened to death," said a cool, sweet voice, and a pink-cheeked, white-haired woman made her way through the throng and spoke to Ethel Blue.

"Come in where it is quiet," she said. "Now drink this water and bathe your eyes and sit down here quietly. Show the little boy these pictures," she directed, and Ethel, having something definite to do, obeyed her.

"I shall be just outside here if you need me. There's nothing to be afraid of."

Back at the fire the helpers were increased by the arrival of the onlookers at the baseball game. They had come on the run from the lower end of the grounds, the two teams, the umpire, and the scorer bringing up the rear. Roger and James and Helen were with this crowd, and they dashed frantically into action when they found out what houses were involved. James helped the men who were recharging the chemical engines.

Helen joined the procession carrying household goods to the Park.

"Where are the children?" Roger screamed into his grandfather's ear above the throb of the water from the hose wagons.

"There's Ethel Brown carrying those clothes. Your mother's in Miller Park. I don't know where the others are. I'm going in to find your grandmother," and while Roger rushed after Ethel to question her the old gentleman dashed into the burning cottage and straight up the stairs to his wife's room.

It was only a few minutes before he was brought out again by two of the firemen and stretched on the beach by the lake, with a doctor from the crowd working over him and a nurse who had left her rest hour at the hospital to run to the fire, helping him give first-aid. When he recovered consciousness they summoned help and carried him to Miller Park and laid him on a mattress while the physician went back to see if his services were required by any other sufferers.

Fortunately for Mr. Emerson's peace of mind his wife soon discovered him and told him of the safety of all the other members of the family.

It was almost dark when the "All out" signal sounded from the fire-house, and the Mortons began to think of where they should spend the night. Offers of shelter were plentiful both to them and to the boarders, but Mrs. Morton and Mrs. Emerson accepted Mrs. Hanc.o.c.k's offer. The Hanc.o.c.ks owned the cottage on the other side of the one the Mortons had been occupying. By good luck, it seemed now, it had not been let for the summer, and by greater good luck it had come out of the fire unscathed, thanks to the direction of the wind. It was furnished and ready for use, and Mrs. Hanc.o.c.k and Margaret and James busied themselves carrying over bedding and towels and table linen. Roger and several neighbors bore Mr. Emerson from the Park on his mattress and established him in a comfortable lower bedroom. Ethel Blue and d.i.c.ky were found by Mrs. Morton in the art store and brought home. Helen was sent to the Indiana Cottage to order supper sent in, for Mary's department would not be in order until the next day.

Every member of the family was accounted for when the Director of the Inst.i.tution stopped at the porch to see if he could do anything for their comfort.

"This young woman is a heroine," he said, patting Ethel Brown's shoulder. "I watched her all through and she behaved like a grown woman."

Ethel Brown, her skirt torn, her blouse smoke-begrimed and her face dirty, smiled at him shyly, and murmured "Thank you."

CHAPTER VII

DOROTHY COOKS

DOROTHY and her mother had a room in a house near the trolley gate. When they had first come to Chautauqua the year before a sign in front of the house had attracted their attention. It read:

-------------- LIGHT HOUSE KEEPING PERMITTED --------------

Light housekeeping was just what Mrs. Smith wanted to do, so she made inquiries and was able to complete arrangements so satisfactory that she went to the same place when she returned for this second summer.

There were several reasons why she did not want to go to a boarding house. In the first place she wanted to have her expenses as small as possible, and in the next she wanted to teach Dorothy something about cooking, for she believed that every girl ought to know something of this important branch of home-making and in the wandering life they had led it had not always been possible for them to live otherwise than in a boarding house.

"You can take the domestic science work at the Girls' Club," she had said, "and then we can have our little home here and you can apply your knowledge for our own benefit."

So well had this plan worked and so competent had Dorothy become in simple cooking that this summer she was specializing in cooking for invalids.

"It's mighty lucky I took the invalids' cooking," she exclaimed as her mother came in from the art store at noon the day after the fire, and sat down to the nice little dinner that Dorothy had prepared.

"It's one of the things that may be valuable to you in many ways and at any time."

"It's valuable now. Have I told you about my friends at the Girls' Club, two cousins, both named Ethel Morton?"

"Morton? What are their fathers' names? Where do they live?" said Mrs.

Smith, speaking more quickly than was usual with her.

"I don't know their fathers' names--their fathers aren't here."

"Oh!" Mrs. Smith leaned back in her chair as if she were especially weary.

"They live in the cottage that was burned yesterday."

"They do! I wonder, then, if it wasn't one of them that brought a little boy to the art store while the fire was going on."

"Did she call him d.i.c.ky?"

"Yes, d.i.c.ky."

"Did the girl have blue eyes or brown?"

"I didn't notice--or, yes, I believe I did--they were blue."

"That was Ethel Blue, then. They call the other one Ethel Brown to tell them apart. This morning they didn't come to the club because they had so much to do to put their new cottage in order, but Ethel Brown ran in just for a minute to ask me if I could cook some special things for her grandfather while he was sick. He was hurt yesterday at the fire."

"Oh, poor man."

"It's not very serious, Ethel Brown says, only he's bruised and he swallowed a lot of smoke and he can't eat what the rest of them do."