Jeanette flung up her arms over her head in a curious gesture. With her short hair, her gallant figure and look of high resolve of courage gained not by impulse but by prayer, she might have been a young Joan of Arc. A moment she stood, then dashed into the burning building.
"Don't go in, not you!" she heard Eda crying after her.
The next words Jeanette distinguished were uttered by a different voice.
"She is coming around all right, mother, don't be so frightened."
The voice was Cecil Perry's. He was standing near, bending over her. Her head lay in Mrs. Perry's lap. A wet handkerchief was gently wiping the smoke and grime from her face.
About them Jeanette seemed to see a small multitude of friends and neighbors and the men employed on the Rainbow Ranch.
"Mother and Via?" she inquired, not conscious that she was using the name she had vowed to herself never to employ.
"They are better off than you are. You are not to worry," Cecil answered comfortingly and with a new note of respect in his voice that Jeanette never had heard before.