"We will," shrieked Marjory, who, with the other three, was rushing by. "Don't get mixed up with the hose," warned Dr. Tucker, who was carrying young Peter to view the fire. "We won't," promised Bettie. "We'll stand on the very safest corner." "This is it," declared Jean, stopping short on the sidewalk. "We can see right over the heads of the folks that are close to the building." "Should you think," panted Mabel, hopefully, "that there'd be school Monday?" "Looks doubtful," said Marjory. "Not upstairs, anyway," returned Jean. "Everything must be smoked perfectly black. And it's getting worse every minute instead of better." "Goodness!" cried Mabel, suddenly turning pale at a new and alarming thought. "I do hope it won't burn _my_ room. The money for Miss Bonner's birthday present is in my desk. It's--it's a horrible lot of money to lose. I ought never to have left it there. Dear me! Do you think----" "Phew!" cried Jean, paying no heed to Mabel. "Look at that!" "That" was a terrifying flash of red that suddenly illumined six of the big upper windows. "The High School room," groaned Bettie. "It's--it's _flames_!" "Hang it!" growled an indignant tax-payer. "Why doesn't somebody _do_ something? That building cost fifty thousand dollars." "Fire started from a defective flue on top floor," explained another bystander, "but that's no reason why the whole place should go. There's no fire downstairs, but there _will_ be--What's that? No water? Broken hydrant?" Mabel listened attentively. The bystander continued: "Then the whole building is doomed. It's had time enough to get a tremendous start." "Oh, look!" cried Jean. "It's bursting through into the next room--_my_ room! Oh, how _dreadful_! All our plants, our books, our pictures--Oh, oh! I can't bear to look." Firemen and volunteer helpers were, hurrying in and out the wide south door. Men carried out towering piles of books and tossed them ruthlessly to the ground. Miss Bonner's big pink geranium was added to the heap. The Janitor appeared with the big hall clock, that wouldn't go at all on ordinary occasions but was now striking seven hundred and twenty-seven--or something like that--all at one stretch. It seemed to be crying out in alarm. The roar of flames could now be heard, likewise. "Why!" exclaimed Jean, wheeling suddenly. "Where's Mabel? Wasn't she right beside you a minute ago, Bettie? I certainly saw her there." "She was--but she isn't now," returned Bettie, looking about anxiously. "I thought she was behind me." "Dear me!" murmured motherly Jean. "I hope she hasn't gone any closer. Suppose the scallops on that roof should begin to melt off." "Oh, look!" cried Marjory. "There! In the doorway!" All three looked just in time to see a short, not-very-slender girl in an unmistakable red cap dart in at the smoky doorway. "Oh," groaned Jean, "it's Mabel!" "Oh," moaned Marjory, "why did I ever tell her that there was a fire?"