"Oh, mother, they can't wait for John to harness," he said quickly, as his father hesitated before replying. "If they did the fire would be out."

"That's right, son. Very likely it's not much of a fire anyway, but a little run in this frosty air won't hurt Ruth and me. Are you warmly dressed, little girl; overshoes on and mittens?" added Mr. Hamilton, as Ruth came down-stairs.

"Very warmly dressed, Uncle Henry. I've got so much on that probably I shan't be able to run at all."

Once out in the cold, starlit night none of the warm garments seemed superfluous, and Ruth ran and walked by turns in order to keep up with Mr. Hamilton's long strides. As they reached Mr. Marshall's house Dorothy and her father and Frank joined them, and just ahead they could see the Ellsworth boys with Betty and Charlotte.

"Some one says it's that old brown house that was almost ready to fall to pieces anyway," said Jack coming up behind them with Phil.

"Was any one living there?" asked Mr. Marshall.

"I saw some children playing out in the yard when I drove by the other day," answered Frank. "Come on, boys, let's run for it," he added, as a turn in the road enabled them to see the fire.

"Isn't it dreadful?" shuddered Ruth as, with fascinated gaze, she watched the flames fasten hungrily upon one part after another of the doomed house, and sweep into the air as though exulting in their triumph. "Do you suppose these other houses will have to go too?"

"I hardly think so," answered Mr. Hamilton. "They are beginning to get the fire under, and they are keeping the other roofs wet."

"Stay here with the girls and Mr. Hamilton, Dolly," said Mr. Marshall suddenly. "I want to go over and talk to some of these people."

A little crowd had collected around the door of one of the cottages, and as Mr. Marshall walked toward them the girls looked after him with eyes that were frankly curious.

"I remember coming up here with Aunt Mary the day before Christmas,"

said Ruth. "And she left a Christmas basket at this very same brown house, if I'm not mistaken. Yes, I'm sure of it, and there were five or six children in the family. Oh, I hope they all got out safely."

"Lucky that it was early in the evening," observed Charlotte, stamping her feet to get some warmth into them. "I can't stay much longer, girls; I'm so cold that--"

"Here comes Mr. Marshall," interrupted Betty eagerly. "Wait a minute, Char, and we'll all go."

Mr. Marshall, who had been inside one of the houses, came toward them with something clasped in his arms, and as he drew near they could see that it was apparently a baby rolled in a heavy shawl.

The child had put both arms around his neck and was hiding her eyes on his shoulder when he reached the little group. He looked very grave, and the girlish faces grew sober in sympathy even before he spoke.

"Oh, father, is the baby hurt?" asked Dorothy anxiously.

"Not injured, dear, but left very much alone. She is a little German girl, and she and her mother had only been here a few days. The mother wanted to get work in the factory, and had taken a room for herself and the baby with the German family which lived in the brown house. Every one got out safely, but the excitement was too much for the poor young mother. She must have had a weak heart, I'm afraid, for she had to go away and leave her baby."

Ruth's eyes filled with tears as she realized what he meant, and she stretched out her arms impulsively toward the baby.

"Poor little soul," she said with a choke in her voice; "is she old enough to know what happened?"

As she spoke the baby raised her head and stared in startled wonder at the pitying faces about her. The shawl fell back a little from her head, and, in the brilliant light from the fire, the girls could see golden rings of hair cl.u.s.tering around a face delicately pink and white. The big brown eyes gazed at them for a moment, then with a little sob she buried her head on Mr. Marshall's shoulder again.

"I must look like some one she has known," he said softly, as he wrapped the shawl closely around her, "for the minute she saw me she held out her arms to me, and no one could get her away. These poor people around here have enough to look out for over night, so I'll take this baby home. Do you think you can help take care of her for a while, daughter?"

"Oh, yes, I'd love to," a.s.sented Dolly eagerly. "I wish she'd let me take her," but for the present, at least, the sorrowful baby refused to leave her safe resting-place, and only clung more tightly to Mr. Marshall when the girls tried to beguile her.

Mr. Hamilton and Betty's older brothers stayed to make some arrangements for the poor family that had been turned out-of-doors, and, as by this time the fire was well under control, the spectators dispersed in various directions. The girls and boys escorted Mr. Marshall and the baby home, and then left Ruth at her own door.

By the time she had finished telling Mrs. Hamilton and Arthur about the fire and the forlorn baby, Mr. Hamilton appeared and was at once besieged with questions.

"I wish you had been there, Mary," he said to his wife; "you always seem to know how to make every one comfortable. It is wonderful to me to see how good those people are to each other. They were only too anxious to shelter that poor Schmidt family, in which there are six children, and I didn't know whether we should ever get them peaceably divided up. I tried to get more information about the baby's mother; but no one seems to know anything except that she was called Mrs. Winter, and had lost her husband quite recently."

"Was she a young woman?" asked Mrs. Hamilton.

"She looked hardly more than a girl as she lay there, and her face was so refined and sweet that I couldn't help fancying that the early part of her life had been spent under very different conditions from these."

"Didn't the woman they lived with know anything more about them?"

asked Ruth, much disappointed.

"Poor Mrs. Schmidt was so excited, and so anxious to see that her own brood was safe and to be well cared for, that she didn't know much about anything else. The poor little mother had only been with her a few days, and beyond the fact that she seemed very sad and had cried a great deal, and that the little one's name was Elsa, she could tell me nothing. Oh, she did say that the mother and baby looked very much alike, the same large, brown eyes, and the same fair complexion and fair hair."

"The baby is a perfect little beauty," said Ruth, "and I quite envy Dolly the fun of having her in the house. I'm going over the first thing in the morning to see her."

Fortunately the next day was Sat.u.r.day, and one by one the girls dropped into Dorothy's house to see the pretty baby. Alice and Katharine, who hadn't seen the fire the night before, had to hear the whole story from the other girls, and all were much impressed when Ruth happened to mention that Mr. Hamilton had thought the poor young mother looked better than her surroundings.

"I shouldn't wonder a bit," said Dorothy impressively. "Everything about this baby was just as clean and sweet as could be. Her mother must have taken her right out of bed, for she had nothing on but her little nightie when father brought her home. Mother found some baby clothes of mine, and I had such fun dressing her this morning."

"How old do you suppose she is?" asked Betty.

"Oh, I know. Mrs. Schmidt told father last night that she was two years old," answered Dorothy.

While the girls were talking about her the baby had sat quietly on Dorothy's lap looking from one to another with her solemn, brown eyes. Ruth and Betty had made several attempts to get her to sit with them, but she only turned her head away and nestled closer to Dorothy, much to that young lady's delight.

"I wish mother would let me keep her always," said Dolly with a little sigh. "I should just love to take care of her."

"For how long?" laughed Charlotte.

"Now, Charlotte, don't be horrid. Just because you get tired of children is no reason I should," answered Dorothy, putting on the superior air which Charlotte couldn't stand.

"Oh, fudge, you wouldn't like it any better than I do if you really couldn't get out of it," snapped Charlotte.

"I'm the only one who really needs her, because I haven't any sister or brother," said Ruth, holding out her arms once more to the baby. "And, of course, I can't have her."

To her surprise this time the little Elsa half smiled at her, and, as though wanting to make up to her for the sister she couldn't have, put out her own chubby hands. Ruth took her quickly before she should have time to repent and sat down with her.

"She saw your watch," said Dorothy as the baby put up a timid finger to touch it.

"I'm glad there's something about me she likes," retorted Ruth quickly. "Perhaps in time, Dolly, she'll love me for myself alone, as she does you."

Dorothy colored, and it seemed as if the baby were likely to be the innocent cause of trouble, but Betty, who was a born peacemaker, stepped into the breach with eager unconsciousness. She had been thinking deeply for some minutes and her smooth forehead was puckered perplexedly as she spoke.

"You're always laughing at me for my queer ideas, girls, but this time I've really thought of something," she said with repressed excitement."

"Does it hurt, Betsy?" inquired Charlotte with pretended anxiety.

"Why can't the Social Six," went on Betty, ignoring her flippant friend, "adopt the baby and bring her up?"

"For goodness' sake, Betty, what do you think we are, millionaires?"

protested Charlotte.