“But you forget the wonderful singing,” interrupted Jim. “They had a full choir, and the voices of so many young boys sounded like the voices of angels. And as they played the recessional and marched out, the singing grew softer and softer, and sounded as if it were coming from Heaven indeed.”
Dorothy did not say anything at this, but looked at Jim earnestly.
“I am glad you enjoyed the services. Yes, the Episcopal services, I do think, are the most impressive of all denominations,” said Aunt Betty.
“Did you see Ruth and Mr. Ludlow?” asked Dorothy, turning to Alfy. She was afraid to look at Jim for fear of seeing something in his eyes she felt she had no right at that time to see.
“Yes, we met them in time, and they both wished to be remembered to you and Aunt Betty, and hoped you were feeling rested now,” answered Alfy.
“Come, let’s go to bed now, dears,” said Aunt Betty. “We all have to do a lot to-morrow and must get up real early.” With that they all retired to rest till the morrow. That at least was their expectation, but soon there was to materialize a different aspect to affairs. New York, even at night, is a noisy place, so it is little wonder that when the cries of “Fire,” “Fire,” rent the air, few heard and the few who did hear paid not much attention.
But when someone knocked on Mrs. Calvert’s door with a terrific thud, and yelled, “Fire! Fire! All out! Use stairs to the left!” all three, Aunt Betty, Dorothy and Alfy, were out of their beds with unhesitating promptness, and remarkably scared at that.
“Fire! Fire!” rang through the air, and they could hear the bell-boys thump, thump, thump on each door.
“Put on your slippers and kimona and come at once!” commanded Aunt Betty, suiting actions to her words. “Come, Alfy, Dorothy, this way out!”