“I'm—I'm all right! Go—go! I can get along—”
“I'll go when you go,” said Mrs. Evans. She turned to Lemuel. “Mr. Evans fainted; but he is better now.” She took his hand with a tender tranquillity that ignored all danger or even excitement, and gently chafed it.
“But come—come!” cried Lemuel. “Don't you know the house is on fire?”
“Yes, I know it,” she replied. “We must get Mr. Evans down. You must help me.” Lemuel had seldom seen her before; but he had so long heard and talked of her hopeless invalidism that she was like one risen from the dead, in her sudden strength and courage, and he stared at the miracle of her restoration. It was she who claimed and bore the greater share of the burden in getting her husband away. He was helpless; but in the open air he caught his breath more fully, and at last could tremulously find his way out of the sympathetic crowd. “Get a carriage,” she said to Lemuel; and then she added, as it drove up and she gave an address, “I can manage him now.”
Evans weakly pressed Lemuel's hand from the seat to which he had helped him, and the hack drove away. Lemuel looked crazily after it a moment, and then returned to the burning house.
Berry called to him from the top of the outside steps, “Barker, have you seen that partner of yours?”
Lemuel ran up to him. “No!”
“Well, come in here. The elevator's dropped, and they're afraid he went down with it.”
“I know he didn't! He wouldn't be such a fool!”
“Well, we'll know when they get the fire under.”