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, th