"Well, Connie," he answered, "it was the sight of your beautiful face in the window that gave me courage to save yer. Now, do you want to have a shelter for yourself and your little brother to-night?'
"Thank you, sir," said Connie. The man pulled a card—it looked just like a gentleman's visiting card—out of his pocket.
"Will you take that," he said, "to No. 12 Carlyle Terrace? It's just round the corner. Take your little brother with you. There are two bells to the house. Look for the one that has the word 'Night' written under it. It used to be a doctor's house, but there's no doctor there now. My mother will understand—give her that card, and tell her what has happened. Good night."
He turned away. It was some time before Connie and Ronald could get rid of the many neighbors who volunteered help, and who regarded the two pretty children as the hero and heroine of the hour. Offers of a shake-down for the night, of a hasty meal, of a warm fire, came to Connie from all sorts of people. But she had made up her mind to follow out the directions of the tall fireman, and saying that she had friends at No. 12 Carlyle Terrace, she and Ronald soon started off to go to the address the fireman had given them.
They were both too excited to feel the effects of all they had gone through at first, but when they reached the house, and Connie pressed the button of the bell which had the word "Night" written under it, she was trembling exceedingly.
"Why are we coming here?" asked Ronald.
"I dunno," said Connie. "Seems as though a hangel was with us all the time."
"I expect so," answered Ronald in a very weak voice.
"And," continued Connie, "he's a-leadin' of us 'ere."
They had pressed the bell, and quickly—wonderfully quickly—they heard steps running down the stairs; and the door was opened by a tall woman—very tall and very thin—with a beautiful pale face and soft motherly eyes.