“What is it, Edith?” Margaret Hale asked anxiously. She had not listened to the conversation for the last few seconds.
There was no immediate reply, but the tension in Edith Linder’s face and figure was plain to her companions.
“It is nothing, I suppose, I was a little afraid of a fire,” Edith returned. “I think one often is in a factory neighborhood. I suppose I am more fearful because I have lived in the country.”
Undoubtedly the smoke was increasing, yet neither Louise nor Margaret was alarmed. Gusts of smoke frequently appear in unexpected places to an outsider’s eyes and usually can be traced to a natural source. Inside the factory the occupants must be aware of what was taking place. The wind was now blowing in occasional gusts and probably forcing the smoke in varying directions.
The two girls started to move on past the factory building.
Edith held them back.
“Not for a moment, please, not until I can be sure. Will you wait here? I think I had best go to the front door and inquire what is the matter. You see, I know the manager and it will be all right.”
This time Edith was walking on alone, when Louise called out sharply:
“Edith, there is a fire! Don’t go nearer.”
That instant a flame had leaped upward, showing scarlet against the window.