"I didn't know," he moaned to himself, and then his cry changed to a prayer, "Dear G.o.d, don't let her burn. Don't let her burn," he pleaded as he ran, pitifully penitent.

As Harvey flew towards the burning house, his thought dwelt on the other fire from which he and Beth had been saved.

"G.o.d won't let her burn. He won't do it," he cried to himself, and yet half fearful that the fire demon which seemed to pursue Beth might conquer this time.

"De Good Book says dat if we ask anything, an' believe, dat it will be granted us," gasped Gustus as if reading Harvey's doubts. "Let's both pray as hard as ever we kin dat G.o.d'll save Missy Beth, an' He'll do it."

The faith expressed by the superst.i.tious colored boy heartened Harvey somewhat. He ran on as fast as ever, but both in his heart and in that of Gustus was the prayer that Beth might be saved.

That prayer was answered. After the colored boy was found wanting, an animal was used as G.o.d's messenger. The fire awakened Duke. The air all around him was full of smoke that almost choked him. He realized there was danger, but he thought more of another that he loved than of his own safety. With a bound, he sprang through the open doorway barking wildly. He leaped up on the bed where the children slept. He had no words in which to warn them of danger, but the ways of G.o.d are above those of men, and weak instruments prove strong in His hands.

Julia and Beth wakened at the same instant.

"What is it, Duke?" cried Beth only half awake, for the dog was pulling wildly at her night-dress. The smoke answered her question. Both of the girls knew that Duke was warning them that the house was on fire.

They jumped out of bed, and ran to the door. The fire now was fast breaking into the house.

"What shall we do?" gasped Beth at sight of the smoke and flames circling around the stairs at the end of the hall.

"We can climb down the piazza," answered Julia turning towards it.

Beth started to follow her, but a thought stopped her.

"If we go that way Maggie'll burn. I must try to warn her."

"But we'll choke to death," cried Julia, carried away for a moment by the terror fire has for the bravest.

"I can't help it. I can't let Maggie burn. You can climb down the piazza, but I'm going to try to reach Maggie," answered Beth, going towards the hall, with Duke at her heels.

It was a terrible temptation to Julia to take Beth at her words. She feared that Death waited in the hall. The thought made Julia shiver notwithstanding the sickening heat that was beginning to fill the house. Her face blanched, but it was no whiter than that of Beth, who felt fully as strongly as Julia the danger she ran in trying to save Maggie.

"Let's wrap ourselves in blankets," cried Julia seizing two from the bed, and throwing one to Beth. She had conquered her fear sufficiently to make a supreme effort to save Maggie. She was too brave to let Beth outshine her in daring.

"Maggie, Maggie, wake," yelled Beth, wrapping the blanket around her and rushing out into the smoke and fire towards the room where Maggie slept.

"Fire, fire, fire," screamed Julia, the smoke half choking her.

Their cries wakened Maggie. She jumped out of bed, and rushed out into the hall.

"Oh, de good Lo'd," she moaned, trembling all over in sudden horror; "dis house is burnin', an' we'll die." Then she saw the two girls.

Their danger calmed her fears.

"No, we won't die, honeys," she cried more calmly. "We kin get down de stairs, I know. Come on, my honeys. I won't leave yo'. We'll jes'

keep our mouths shut, an' we'll be all right."

She, too, seized a blanket to protect herself from the fire.

She was nearest the stairs, but she waited until the girls came up to her. Not another word was said. The smoke was drying up their throats and lungs, and they felt that they needed every bit of air just to breathe.

Fortunately, in the main part of the building, the fire was worse on the outside than the inside. Their greatest foe was the smoke that grew more dense every instant. Down the stairs they flew. Once at the bottom, the door leading outside seemed very far away. Still they did not make a sound, but used every effort to escape. There was no thought of trying to save anything but their lives. That was the one mercy that was asked of G.o.d. Other possessions could be replaced. On, on they flew. Thank G.o.d, the door is almost within reach. They gasp for breath. Even Duke pants. Will their strength last until they can reach G.o.d's pure air?

Maggie now proved leader. Her trembling hands unbarred the door that alone stood between them and liberty. With a last mighty effort, she swung it open. Out they flew, and now the flames which curled in wild fury about the piazza almost scorched them. Thank G.o.d, this fiery trial is but for a moment. They dash through the flames, and are safe.

Breathing is no longer a pain. They make their way beyond the reach of the sparks. Maggie fell on her knees crying:

"Praise to de Lo'd. Praise to de Lo'd."

Julia looked at the piazza down which she had wished to climb.

"Beth, if we had tried to come that way we couldn't have done it," she said, and there was thankfulness in her heart that she had conquered her fear. Otherwise precious time would have been lost, and she might have been burned to death.

"Our home is gone," sobbed Beth, for at that instant the roof fell.

Duke howled as if he, too, knew that something had been lost that never again could be exactly the same. His howls attracted Beth's attention.

"You dear, dear fellow," she cried, the tears flowing faster than ever.

"If it hadn't been for you we'd all be dead."

He poked his nose into her outstretched hand, and looked up at her as if he would like to comfort her. At that instant Harvey and Gustus rushed upon the scene.

"Beth, Beth," cried Harvey wildly.

"We're here," she answered.

Tears of thankfulness rushed into the eyes of Harvey and Gustus, and for once they were not ashamed of crying.

"Beth," repeated Harvey, running up to her and seizing her hands. His emotion choked back the words that rose. Never had he been more grateful, and never had he less power of expression.

"Little missy, I done feared yo'd went up in de flames," cried Gustus, and added, "but I had dat dar grain of mustard seed dat made me b'lieve de Lo'd would somehow save yo'."

"Somehow, even when I'm awfully scared, I don't think I'm going to be killed," said Beth.

"I jes' reckon yo' has dat grain of mustard seed I'se tellin' 'bout."

"I reckon it's a good thing to have, Gustus," put in Harvey. "But instead of letting the mustard seed do everything by itself, I believe we'd better rouse the servants. Unless care is taken their quarters and the barn may burn."

[Ill.u.s.tration: The darkies' quarters.]

This proved a happy suggestion; for while these buildings were far distant from the house, it was found the sparks had already set the barn afire. However, the servants managed to put the fire out.

The glare from the fire illuminated the sky, and attracted the attention of the Davenports and the Gordons returning in a merry mood from the party.

"It looks like a house burning," said Mrs. Davenport. "Supposing it were ours," she added forebodingly.

Mr. Davenport had experienced a like fear for some moments, but had refrained from letting any of the party know. They had remarked that he was driving the spirited span to their full speed, but supposed he was hurrying because of the lateness of the hour.

"It is a fire," cried Mrs. Gordon. "Our daughters--G.o.d keep them."

Moments seemed hours to the anxious parents. As dread became certainty, they felt as if the horses were almost standing still, whereas they were going as fast over the hard sh.e.l.l road as was possible. Ambulance or fire horses could not have pa.s.sed the ones Mr.

Davenport drove, urged both by his voice and by the whip.

"Beth--Julia," cried two mothers the same second, as they rushed from the carriage and gathered two blanketed figures to their hearts. Tears of relief and thankfulness flowed thick and fast.