“Never mind the mirror, there are other things more valuable than that,” cried Eleanor as she tugged at the determined old lady’s arm. But Miss Pike was not to be deterred and rushed away to the second story in spite of them.
“She’ll be burned to death! I know she will,” wailed Constance, as a man ran across the hall calling:
“Miss Carruth, Miss Constance, where are you? You must get out of here instantly!”
“Oh, Mr. Stuyvesant, Miss Pike has gone up to mother’s room and I must go after her.”
“You must do nothing of the sort. Come out at once both of you. I’ll see to her when I’ve got you to a place of safety,” and without more ado Hadyn Stuyvesant hurried them both from the house to the lawn, where a motley crowd was gathered, and their household goods and chattels were lying about in the utmost confusion, while other articles, escorted by various neighbors, were being borne along the street to places of safety. One extremely proper and precise maiden lady was struggling along under an armful of Mr. Carruth’s dress-shirts and pajamas brought forth from nobody knew where. A portly matron, with the tread of a general, followed her with a flatiron in one hand and a tiny doll in the other, while behind her a small boy of eight staggered beneath the weight of a wash boiler.
“Where is Mammy? O where is Mammy?” cried Eleanor, clasping her hands and looking toward the burning building.
“Here me! Here me!” answered Mammy’s voice as she hurried toward them with a great bundle of rescued articles. “I done drug dese yer t’ings f’om de burer in yo’ ma’s room an’ do you keep tight fas’ ’em ’twell I come back. Mind now what I’se telling’ yo’ kase dere’s t’ings in dar dat she breck her heart ter lose. I’se gwine back fer sumpin’ else.”
“O Mammy! Mammy, don’t go. You’ll be burned to death,” cried Constance, laying her hand upon Mammy’s arm to restrain her.
“You mustn’t Mammy! You mustn’t,” echoed Eleanor.
“Stay here with the girls, Mammy, and let me get whatever it is you are bent upon saving,” broke in Hadyn Stuyvesant.