"Dear me, Lyddy! the hall is full of smoke. It isn't your stove that's smoking so, I hope? And here's Aunt Jane Hammond come to see us. I met her on the street, and these four flights of stairs have almost killed her----Why! what's happened, Lyddy?" the younger girl broke off to ask, as her sister's pale face appeared at the bedroom door. "Everything--everything's happened at once, I guess," replied Lyddy, faintly. "Father's sick--we've got company--and the house is afire!" CHAPTER II AUNT JANE PROPOSES Aunt Jane Hammond stalked into the meagerly furnished parlor, and looked around. It was the first time she had been to see the Bray girls since their "come down" in the world. She was a tall, gaunt woman--their mother's half-sister, and much older than Mrs. Bray would have been had she lived. Aunt Jane, indeed, had been married herself when her father, Dr. "Polly" Phelps, had married his second wife. "I must--say I--expected to--see some--angels sit--ting a--round--when I got up here," panted Aunt Jane, grimly, and dropping into the most comfortable chair. "Couldn't you have got a mite nearer heaven, if you'd tried, Lyddy Bray?" "Ye-es," gasped Lyddy. "There's another story on top of this; but it's afire just now." "_What?_" shrieked Aunt Jane. "Do you really mean it, Lyddy?" cried her sister. "And that's what the smoke means?" "Well," declared their aunt, "them firemen will have to carry me out, then. I couldn't walk downstairs again right now, for no money!" 'Phemie ran to the hall door. But when she opened it a great blast of choking smoke drove in. "Oh, oh!" she cried. "We can't escape by the stairway. What'll we do? What _shall_ we do?" "There's the fire-escape," said Lyddy, trembling so that she could scarcely stand. "What?" cried Aunt Jane again. "_Me_ go down one o' them dinky little ladders--and me with a hole as big as a half-dollar in the back of my stockin'? I never knowed it till I got started from home; the seam just gave." "I'd look nice going down that ladder. I guess not, says Con!" and she shook her head so vigorously that all the little jet trimmings upon her bonnet danced and sparkled in the gaslight just as her beadlike, black eyes snapped and danced. "We--we're in danger, Lyddy!" cried 'Phemie, tremulously. "Oh, the boy!" exclaimed Lyddy, and flew to the kitchen, just in time to see the Smith family sliding down the plank into the laboratory--the two girls ahead, then Mother Smith, then Johnny Smith, and then the father. And all while the boy next door held the plank firmly in place against the window-sill of the burning flat. Lyddy threw up the window and screamed something to him as the last Smith passed him and disappeared. She couldn't have told what she said, for the very life of her; but the young man across the shaft knew what she meant. He drew back the plank a little way, swung his weight upon the far end of it, and then let it drop until it was just above the level of her sill.