I'm going home for some
tools--Hullo! there's the flames coming through one corner o' the
roof; that's the last o' the factory, I guess; but it ain't much
loss, any way; it's a regular sweatin'-shop. They'll let it go now,
and try to save the buildings each side of it--that's what they'll
do.'
That is what they were doing when Mary and Rhoda broke away from the
voluble locksmith in the middle of his discourse and neared the scene
of excitement. The firemen had not yet come, though it was rumoured
that a detachment was on the way. All the occupants of the tenement
house were taking their goods and chattels out--running down the
narrow stairways with feather-beds, dropping clocks and china
ornaments from the windows, and endangering their lives by crawling
down the fire-escapes with small articles of no value. Men were
scarce at that hour in that locality, but there was a good contingent
of small shopkeepers and gentlemen-of-steady-leisure, who were on the
roof pouring-water over wet blankets and comforters and carpets. A
crazy-looking woman in the fourth story kept dipping a child's
handkerchief in and out of a bowl of water and wrapping it about a
tomato-can with a rosebush planted in it. Another, very much
intoxicated, leaned from her window, and, regarding the whole matter
as an agreeable entertainment, called down humorous remarks and
ribald jokes to the oblivious audience.
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