But Mike did not thus understand it, and thinking her only object in turning back was to "see the doin's," as he designated the firemen's muster, he muttered long and loud about being thus sent home while his mistress went to see the fun.
In the meantime, on a hard settee, at the rather uncomfortable depot, Madam Conway awaited the arrival of the train, which came at last, and in a short time she found herself again in Worcester. Once in a carriage, and on her way to the "Bay State," she began to feel a little nervous, half wishing she had followed Maggie's advice, and left Theo alone. But it could not now be helped, and while trying to think what she should say to her astonished granddaughter she was set down at the door of the hotel, slightly bewildered and a good deal perplexed, a feeling which was by no means diminished when she learned that Mr. and Mrs. Douglas were both out of town.
"Where have they gone, and when will they return?" she gasped, untying her bonnet strings for easier respiration.
To these queries the clerk, replied that he believed Mr. Douglas had gone to Boston on business, that he might be home that night; at all events, he would probably return in the morning; she could find Mr. Warner, who would tell her all about it. "Shall I send for him?" he continued, as he saw the scowl upon her face.
"Certainly not," she answered; and taking the key, which had been left in his charge, she repaired to Theo's rooms, and sinking into a large easy-chair fanned herself furiously, wondering if they would return that night, and what they would say when they found her there. "But I don't care," she continued, speaking aloud and shaking her head very decidedly at the excited woman whose image was reflected by the mirror opposite, and who shook her head as decidedly in return. "George Douglas has deceived us shamefully, and I'll tell him so, too. I wish he'd come this minute!"
But George Douglas knew well what he was doing. Very gradually was he imparting to Theo a knowledge of his parents, and Theo, who really loved her husband, was learning to prize him for himself, and not for his family. Feeling certain that the firemen's muster would bring his mother to town, and knowing that Theo was not yet prepared to see her, he was greatly relieved at Madam Conway's sudden departure, and had himself purposely left home, with the intention of staying away until Friday night. This, however, Madam Conway did not know, and very impatiently she awaited his coming, until the lateness of the hour precluded the possibility of his arrival, and she retired to bed, but not to sleep, for the city was full of firemen, and one company, failing of finding lodgings elsewhere, had taken refuge in an empty carriage-shop near by. The hard, bare floor was not the most comfortable bed imaginable, and preferring the bright moonlight and open air they made the night hideous with their noisy shouts, which the watchmen tried in vain to hush. To sleep in that neighborhood was impossible, and all night long Madam Conway vibrated between her bed and the window, from which latter point she frowned wrathfully down upon the red coats below, who, scoffing alike at law and order as dispensed by the police, kept up their noisy revel, shouting lustily for "Chelsea, No. 4" and "Washington, No. 2," until the dawn of day.
"I wish to mercy I'd gone home!" sighed Madam Conway, as weak and faint she crept down to the breakfast table, doing but little justice to anything, and returning to her room pale, haggard, and weary.
Ere long, however, she became interested in watching the crowds of people who at an early hour filled the streets; and when at last the different fire companies of the State paraded the town, in a seemingly never-ending procession, she forgot in a measure her trouble, and drawing her chair to the window sat down to enjoy the brilliant scene, involuntarily nodding her head to the stirring music, as company after company passed. Up and down the street, far as the eye could reach, the sidewalks were crowded with men, women, and children, all eager to see the sight. There were people from the city and people from the country, the latter of whom, having anticipated the day for weeks and months, were now unquestionably enjoying it to the last degree.
Conspicuous among these was a middle-aged woman, who elicited remarks from all who beheld her, both from the peculiarity of her dress and the huge blue cotton umbrella she persisted in hoisting, to the great annoyance of those in whose faces it was thrust, and who forgot in a measure their vexation when they read the novel device it bore. Like many other people, who can sympathize with the good woman, she was always losing her umbrella, and at last, in self-defense, had embroidered upon the blue in letters of white:
"Steal me not, for fear of shame.
For here you see my owner's name: