After her brother Jack had gone, Deb stood by the window a long time, watching the progress of the fire. She beheld the flames shoot up, heard the shrill whistle of the engines, and the shouts of the firemen, and finally saw the light subside.
She opened the window, and from the conversation of the passers-by she learned that it was Mr. Felix Gray's mansion that had been burned.
The little bronze clock upon the kitchen shelf struck four.
"Jack will be returning soon," she thought, "and he'll be awfully tired, too."
An hour passed. She had put on a loose wrapper and sat in the rocker, moving gently forward and backward. Presently the curly head began to nod, and after one or two feeble attempts to rouse up, Deb sank calmly into the land of dreams.
When she awoke, she found it was broad daylight, and the tread of many feet upon the pavement outside told that work had already begun.
"Eight o'clock!" exclaimed the girl. "What can keep Jack so long?"
Then the thought struck her that her brother had returned and retired without waking her, but a glance revealed the empty bed.
Deb's face blanched a trifle as the idea crossed her mind that maybe something had happened, after all. Fires were such dreadful things, with falling chimneys and half-burned staircases, and Jack was so daring, and so ready to risk his life for the benefit of others.
"I'll go down to Mrs. Snitzer's and find out about it," was her conclusion, and locking the door she descended the stairs.