k. Her oldest niece put on her shabby hat and
coat and went out to the nearest lunch-room, where coffee and rolls were
her breakfast.

Then she walked down to Trimble Avenue and approached the huge,
double-decker where they had lived. Salvage men were already carrying
away the charred fragments of the furniture from the top floor. Lyddy
hoped that, unlike herself, the Smiths and the others up there had been
insured against fire.

She plodded wearily up the four flights and unlocked one of the flat
doors and entered. Two of the salvage men followed her in and removed the
tarpaulins--which had been worse than useless.

"No harm done but a little water, Miss," said one of them, consolingly.
"But you talk up to the adjuster and he'll make it all right."

They all thought, of course, that the Brays' furniture was insured. Lyddy
closed the door and looked over the wrecked flat.

The parlor furniture coverings were all stained, and the carpet's colors
had "run" fearfully. Many of their little keepsakes and "gim-cracks" had
been broken when the tarpaulins were spread.

The bedrooms were in better shape, although the bedding was somewhat wet.
But the kitchen was ruined.

"Of course," thought Lyddy, "there wasn't much to ruin. Everything was
cheap enough. But what a mess to clean up!"

She looked out of the window across the air-shaft. There was the boy!

He nodded and beckoned to her. He had his own window open. Lydia
considered that she had no business to talk with this young man; yet he
had played the "friend in need" the evening before.

"How's your father?" he called, the moment she opened her window.

"I do not know yet. They told me not to come to the hospital until
nine-thirty."

"I guess you're in a mess over there--eh?" he said, with his most boyish
smile.

But Lyddy was not for idle converse. She nodded, thanked him for his
kindness the evening before, and firmly shut the window. She thought
she knew how to keep _that_ young man in his place.

But she hadn't the heart to do anything toward tidying up the flat now.
And how she wished she might not _have_ to do it!

"If we could only take our clothing and the bedding and little things,
and walk out," she murmured, standing in the middle of the little parlor.

To try to "pick up the pieces" here was going to be dreadfully hard.

"I wish some fairy would come along and transport us all to Hillcrest Farm
in the twinkling of an eye," said Lyddy to herself