“He didn’t say anything back so I don’t know whether he heard me or not, though I hollered at the top of my voice, I promise you. He ran around through my back yard and I after him, only I had to go slow on account of the ice, and before I turned the corner of the house, I heard somebody yelling my name back of me, ‘Mrs. Anderson! Come and let us in quick! Your house is on fire!’ It was Mr. Emmet and his two boys from across the street. They had axes and they wanted me to let them in and up attic because they thought they could get at it from the inside. It seems they had a fire once in their chimney that they—well, while I was trying to get my latch-key in the keyhole—you can just better believe that by that time I was so mixed up I didn’t know which end my head was on, and Mr. Emmet had to take the key away and open the door himself—that was after the fire engine drove up and you know what a terrible clatter they always make, and I was wild about their getting out their big hose because my sitting room ceiling had just been replastered and I was afraid the water would run down and spoil it, and by that time anyhow I had something else to worry about, for all creation was there, the way they do, you know, run wherever the fire engine goes, more men and boys than you ever saw! Awful tough-looking too, lots of them, from those low-down tenement houses near the tracks.... My, wasn’t I glad to see Mrs. Knapp coming back! She’s a master hand for managing things. She shooed all those hoodlums out double-quick. They were crowding right in after Mr. Emmet, bold as brass. I tell you there don’t anybody stay long when she tells ’em to go. And then she headed off the firemen from turning on their hose till some of them had gone up attic to see how the Emmets were getting along, and some others had gone around back to see what Mr. Knapp was up to. She ran upstairs with them to the attic, and I went out on the porch and leaned around to see if I could make out what they were doing back of the house—and then—oh, then—I’ll never forget it to my dying day! I saw a couple of firemen come around from the back of the house carrying something. I couldn’t see what it was, it was so dark, but the way they carried it, the way they stepped—when you’re as old as I am, and have seen as many dead people ... you know!
“I screamed out at them, ‘Oh, oh, oh, what is it? What has happened?’ But I knew before they said a word. One of them said, ‘It’s Mr. Knapp. Don’t let Mrs. Knapp know till we can get the body over to the house!’ And the other one said, ‘He must have fallen off the roof and broken his back.’”
PART TWO
Chapter 7
IT was after an almost continuous thirty-six-hour session of work that Jerome Willing finally stepped out of his office, walked down the dark aisles between brown-linen-covered counters, nodded to the night-watchman, and shut the front door behind him. He crossed the street and turned to take a last affectionate survey of the building which sheltered his future. He was very tired, but as he looked at it he smiled to himself, a candid young smile of pride and satisfaction. It did not look to him like a four-storied brick front, but like a great door opened to the opportunity he had always longed for.
He stood gazing at it till a passer-by jostled him in the dusk. “Well, well ...” he shook his head with a long, satisfied sigh, “mustn’t stand mooning here; must get home to Nell and the little girls.”
As he walked up the pleasant street, between the double rows of well-kept front yards and comfortable homes, he was thinking for the thousandth time how lucky he was, lucky every way you looked at it. For one thing lucky just this minute in having an ex-business-woman for a wife. Nell would understand his falling head over ears into work that first day and a half of his return after an absence. She never pulled any of that injured-wife stuff, no matter how deep in business he got. Fact was, she was as deep as he, and liked to see him get his teeth into it. She surely was the real thing as a wife.
When he let himself into the front door of the big old house, he heard the kids racketing around upstairs cheerfully, with their dog, and was grateful, as he and Nell so often were, for the ease and freedom and wide margin of small-town life. It wasn’t in a New York flat that the children could raise merry hell like that, with nobody to object.
Through the open door he saw his wife’s straight, slim, erect back. She was in the room they had set apart for her “office,” and she was correcting a galley of proof, the ads. for to-morrow’s papers.
“Hello there, Nell,” he cried cheerfully. “Got my head above water at last. I’m home for a real visit to-night.”