CHAPTER XI
The Alarm
NOW that the burden of caring for Rosa Marie was shifted to older andmore competent shoulders, the Cottagers' thoughts returned to theirschool-work. It was time. Never had lessons been so neglected. Neverbefore had four moderately intelligent little girls seemed so stupid.But of course with their minds filled with Rosa Marie, it had beenimpossible to keep the rivers of South America from lightmindedlyrunning over into Asia, or the products of British Columbia from beingexported from Calcutta.
These fortunate girls attended a beautiful school. That is, thebuilding was beautiful. It stood right in the middle of a great biggrassy block, entirely surrounded, as Bettie put it, by street, whichof course added greatly to its dignity. It was built of "raindrop"sandstone, a most interesting building material because no two blockswere alike and also because each stone looked as if it had just beensprinkled with big, spattering drops of rain. It was hard when lookingat it to believe that it wasn't raining, and certain naughty youngstersdelighted in fooling new teachers by pointing out the deceiving dropsthat flecked the balustrade. Perhaps even the grass was fooled by thissemblance to showers for, in summer time, it grew so thriftily thatno one had to be warned to "Keep off," so a great many little peoplefrolicked in the schoolyard even during vacation.
Of course the Dandelion Cottagers were not in the same classes inschool. Jean, being the oldest, the most sedate and the most studious,was almost through the eighth grade. Marjory, being naturally verybright and also moderately industrious, was in the seventh. Mabel andBettie were not exactly anywhere. You see, Bettie had had to stay outso often to keep the next to the youngest Tucker baby from fallingdownstairs, that naturally she had dropped behind all the classes thatshe had ever started with; and Mabel--of course Mabel _meant_ well,but when she studied at all it was usually the lesson for some otherday; for this blundering maiden never _could_ remember which was theright page. But one day she happened by some lucky accident to stumbleupon the right one, and on that solitary occasion she recited so verybrilliantly that Miss Bonner and all the pupils dropped their books tolisten in astonishment, and Mabel was marked one hundred.
But in spite of this high mark in good black ink (if one stood lessthan seventy-five red ink was employed) the thing did not happenagain that fall because Mabel was too busy bringing up Rosa Marie tostudy even the wrong lesson. However, she was exceedingly fond ofpretty Miss Bonner and, having learned the exact date of that youngwoman's birthday, hoped to appease her by a gift to be paid for bycontributions from all the pupils in Miss Bonner's room. Mabel herselfreceived and cared for the slowly accumulating funds, and the littlebrown purse was becoming almost as weighty a responsibility as RosaMarie had been. Sometimes it rested in Mabel's untrustworthy pocket,sometimes in her rather untidy desk, sometimes under her pillow in herown room at home. One day Mrs. Bennett found it there.
"Why, Mabel!" she exclaimed. "Where did all this money come from? Iknow _you_ don't possess any."
"It's the M. B. B. P. F.," responded Mabel, who was brushing her hairwith evident enjoyment and two very handsome military brushes. "I guessI'd better put it in my pocket."
"The what?" asked puzzled Mrs. Bennett.
"The Miss Bonner Birthday Present Fund. I'm the Cus--Cus--Custodium."
"The what kind of cuss?" asked Dr. Bennett, who had just poked his headin at the door to ask if, by any chance, Mabel had seen anything of hishair brushes.
"The Custodium," replied Mabel, with dignity.
"I think she means 'Custodian.'" explained Mrs. Bennett, rescuing thebrushes.
"Well," retorted Mabel, "the toad part was all right if the tailwasn't. Marjory named me that, and she's always using bigger words thanshe ought to."
"So is somebody else," said Dr. Bennett, forgetting to scold about thebrushes. "But I think the 'Custodium' had better hurry, or she'll belate for school."
That was Friday, and the little brown purse contained two dollars andforty-seven cents, which seemed a tremendous sum to inexperienced Mabel.
She remembered afterwards how very big, imposing and substantialthe school building had looked that morning as she approached it andnoticed some strangers fingering the "rain-drops" to see if theywere real. Indeed, everybody, from the largest tax-payer down to thesmallest pupil, was proud of that building because it was so big andbecause there was no more rain-drop sandstone left in the quarry fromwhich it had been taken. Even thoughtless Mabel always swelled withpride when tourists paused to comment on the queer, spotted appearanceof those massive walls. She meant to point that building out some dayto her grandchildren as the fount of all her learning; for the huge,solid building looked as if it would certainly outlast not only Mabel'sgrandchildren but all their great-great-grandchildren as well. But itdidn't.
The catastrophe came on Saturday. Afterwards, everybody in Lakevillewas glad, since the thing had to happen at all, that the day wasSaturday, for no one liked to think what might have happened had thetrouble come on a schoolday. It was also a Saturday in the first weekof November, which was not quite so fortunate, as there was a stiffnorth wind.
At two o'clock that afternoon the streets were almost deserted, butweatherproof Dick Tucker, with his hands in his pockets, was goingalong whistling at the top of his very good lungs. By the merestchance he glanced at the wide windows of Lakeville's most pretentiouspossession, the big Public School building.
From four of the upper windows floated thin, softly curling plumesof gray smoke. The windows were closed, but the smoke appeared to beleaking out from the surrounding frames.
"Hello!" muttered Dick, suddenly shutting off his whistle. "That lookslike smoke. The janitor must be rebuilding the furnace fire. But whyshould smoke--I guess I'll investigate."
The puzzled boy ran up the steps, pulled the vestibule door open andeagerly pressed his nose against the plate-glass panel of the innerdoor, which was locked. Through the glass, however, he could plainlysee that the wide corridor was thick with smoke. He could even smell it.
"Great guns!" exclaimed Dick. "There's things doing in there! Thatfurnace never smokes as hard as all that and besides the Janitor alwayshas Saturday afternoons off. Perhaps the basement door is unlocked."
Dick ran down the steps to find that door, too, securely fastened.
"I guess," said Dick, with another look at the curling smoke about theupper windows, "the thing for me to do is to turn in an alarm."
Dick happened to know where the alarm-box was situated, so, feelingmost important, yet withal strangely shaky as to legs, the lad made forthe corner, a good long block distant, smashed the glass according todirections, and sent in the alarm, a thing that he had always longed todo.
Five minutes later, the big red hosecart, with gong ringing, firemenshouting and dogs barking, was dashing up the street. The hook andladder company followed and a meat wagon, or rather a meat-wagon horse,galloped after. The foundry whistle began to give the ward number inlong, melancholy, terrifying toots and the hosehouse bell joined inwith a mad clamor. People poured from the houses along the hosecart'sroute, for in Lakeville it was customary for private citizens to attendall fires.
Dick, feeling most important, stood on the schoolhouse steps andpointed upward. The hosecart stopped with a jerk that must havesurprised the horses, firemen leaped down and in a twinkling theforemost had smashed in the big glass door.
"It's a fire all right," said he.
Meanwhile the Janitor, chopping wood in his own backyard (which was hisway of enjoying his afternoons off), had listened intently to the firealarm.
"Six-Two," said he, suddenly dropping his ax. "Guess I'll have a lookat that fire. That's pretty close to my school."
The Adopting of Rosa Marie Page 12
