to save another's."

"How?" cried Peggy, roused at the mention of saving life. "Did he start
another fire to meet it?"

"Oh, no, no!" cried Margaret, in her turn failing to appreciate the
Western point of view. "He tried to help put it out at first in the
building where he was, and when he saw that was impossible, he went to
work getting out his books and papers. They were very, very valuable; no
money could have bought some of them, he said, for they were original
documents, and in some cases there were no duplicates. They were Papa's
treasures,--more to him than twenty fortunes. So he began taking them
out, slowly and carefully, thinking he had plenty of time. But after he
had taken out the first load, he heard cries and groans in a room near
his own office, and going in, he found an old man, a wretched old miser
that lived there all alone, in dirt and misery, though every one knew he
was immensely rich. He seemed to have gone out of his mind with fright,
and there he sat, his hands full of notes and bonds and things,
screaming and crying, and saying that he could not go out, for he would
be robbed, and he must stay there and burn to death. Papa tried to
reason with him, but he would not listen, only screamed louder, and
called Papa a robber when he tried to take the papers from him. Then
Papa called to the men who were passing by to help him, but they were
all so busy saving their own things, they could not stop, I suppose, or
at any rate, they did not; and all the time the fire was coming nearer,
and the smoke was getting thicker and thicker. Somebody who knew Papa
called to him that the fire had reached his entry, and that in five
minutes his office would be in flames. He started to run, thinking he
could get out a few precious books, and let the others go while he got
the old man out; but this time the poor old soul clung to him, and
begged not to be left to burn, and looking out into the hall, Papa saw
the smoke-cloud all shot with flame, and bright tongues licking along
the walls toward him. So he took the old man by the arm and tried to
lead him out, but he screamed that his box must go too, his precious
box, or he should die of grief. That was his strong-box, and it was too
heavy for him to lift, so he sat down beside it, hugging it, and saying
that he would never leave it. Poor Papa was at his wit's end, for at any
moment they might be surrounded and cut off from the stairs. So he
heaved up the box and threw