“You go.” Then Mattie Hastings lifted Patty Sands up bodily and fairly threw her into the crowded elevator.
“If the cable holds I’ll come back, Miss,” cried the boy half choked with smoke.
Through the smoke Mattie peered at the cable. Through the shaft she saw the angry flames shooting upward. The sparks were flying. The elevator had made its last trip and she realized it. She turned to the hall window and looked down upon the crowd. A ladder was raised. Someone had seen her.
“Thank God!” she said, “I may yet be saved.”
The smoke was now black and the flames came nearer and nearer to the brave girl, who so unselfishly had given her place to her friend. She leaned out of the window. She watched the fireman ascending. Then she knew no more but fell back into the flames unconscious.
“I’ve got her,” said the fireman, “but I guess she’s gone. No one could live in the smoke up there. She’s badly burned, too, poor girl—her back and arms. Lift her carefully, boys.”
Patty rushed forward. “She has given her life for me,” she shrieked. “Mattie, Mattie dear! don’t you hear me? Speak—oh! speak to Patty.”
The dying girl opened her eyes and half smiled. Patty knelt beside her and put her ear close to Mattie’s mouth.
“Patty,” she whispered, “tell Ethel that I made good.”
Then she closed them wearily and the brave soul of Mattie Hastings passed on.