“Well! don’t that beat all?” cackled one of the men.
The fireman grinned sheepishly and walked to the middle of the show-window to make sure that the danger was really over.
“You’ve got a head on you—that’s what you’ve got!” he said to Laura.
“She’s Belding’s daughter—a smart little girl,” declared another of the men.
The engine and hose carriage came tearing around the corner just then. From up the street thundered the ladder-truck, three huge horses abreast. A crowd came running to the scene.
Laura slipped away, and found Short and Long at her side.
“Huh!” he said, with a grimace. “I thought I was going to be a hero. You’ve got me beat, Laura. You stole my laurel wreath right off my head!”
“You ought to have used what’s in your head a little better, Billy,” returned the girl, laughing. “What is your gray matter for?—as Professor Dimple would say.”
“Huh! Old Dimple! That’s exactly what he would say. He certainly does stick the gaff into us,” grumbled the short boy. “I’ve got a page of Virgil extra to translate between now and Monday morning. He’s a mean old hunks.”
“Such language!” sighed Laura. “I should think you needed extra work in English, not Latin, Billy.”