CHAPTER III.
THE BURNING OF THE TENEMENT HOUSE.
The scene was an exciting one. The occupants of the large tenementhouse had vacated their rooms in alarm, each bearing what first cameto hand, and reinforced by a numerous crowd of outsiders, were gazingin dismay at the sudden conflagration which threatened to make themhomeless.
"Och hone! och hone! that iver I should see the day!" exclaimed a poorIrish woman, wringing her hands. "It's ruined intirely I am by thefire. Is that you, Mrs. Hoffman, and Paul? Indade it's a sad day forthe likes of us."
"It is indeed, Mrs. McGowan. Do you know how the fire caught?"
"It's all along of that drunken brute, Jim O'Connel. He was smokin' inbed, bad luck to him, as drunk as a baste, and the burnin' tobackerfell out on the shates, and set the bed on fire."
"Cheer up, Mrs. McGowan!" said the hearty voice of Mrs. Donovan. "Weain't burnt up ourselves, and that's a comfort."
"I've lost all my money," said Mrs. McGowan disconsolately. "I hadtwenty-siven dollars and thirty cents in the bank, and the bank-book'sburnt up, och hone!"
"You can get your money for all that, Mrs. McGowan," said Paul. "Justtell them at the savings-bank how you lost your book, and they willgive you another."
"Do you think so?" asked Mrs. McGowan doubtfully.
"I feel sure of it."
"Then that's something," said she, looking considerably relieved."Whin can I get it?"
"I will go with you to the bank to-morrow."
"Thank you, Paul. And it's you that's a fine lad intirely."
"All my pictures will burn up," said Jimmy.
"You can draw some new ones," said Paul. "I am afraid, mother, youwill never wear that new dress of yours."
"It's a pity I bought it just at this time."
"Here's a bundle I took from your room, Mrs. Hoffman," said a boy,pushing his way through the crowd.
"My dress is safe, after all," said Mrs. Hoffman in surprise. "It isthe only thing we shall save."
"You can have it made up and wear it in remembrance of the fire,mother."
"I shall be likely to remember that without."
Meanwhile the fire department were working energetically to put outthe fire. Stream after stream was directed against the burningbuilding, but the fire had gained too great headway. It kept on itsvictorious course, triumphantly baffling all the attempts that weremade to extinguish it. Then efforts were made to prevent its spreadingto the neighboring buildings, and these were successful. But thebuilding itself, old and rotten, a very tinderbox, was doomed. In lessthan an hour the great building, full as a hive of occupants, was aconfused mass of smoking ruins. And still the poor people hoveredaround in uncertainty and dismay, in that peculiarly forlorn conditionof mind induced by the thought that they knew not where they shouldlay their heads during the coming night. One family had saved only ateakettle to commence their housekeeping with. A little girl hadpressed close to her breast a shapeless and dirty rag baby, her mostvalued possession. A boy of twelve had saved a well-used pair ofskates, for which he had traded the day before, while an old woman,blear-eyed and wrinkled, hobbled about, groaning, holding in one handa looking-glass, an article the most unlikely of all, one would think,to be of use to her.
"Did you save nothing, Mrs. Donovan?" asked Paul.
"Shure and I saved my flatirons, and my tub I threw out of the window,but some spalpeen has walked off with it. I wish it had fallen on hishead. What'll my Pat say when he comes home from work?"
"It's lucky no lives were lost."
"Thrue for you, Mrs. Hoffman. It might have been a dale worse. I don'tmind meself, for I've strong arms, and I'll soon be on my fate again.But my Pat'll be ravin'. He had just bought a new coat to go to a ballwid tomorrow night, and it's all burnt up in the fire. Do you see thatpoor craythur wid the lookin' glass? I'm glad I didn't save mine, for Iwouldn't know what to do wid it."
"Well, Mrs. Donovan, we must find a new home."
"I've got a sister livin' in Mulberry street. She'll take me in till Ican get time to turn round. But I must stay here till my Pat comeshome, or he would think I was burnt up too."
The crowd gradually diminished. Every family, however poor, had somerelations or acquaintances who were willing to give them a temporaryshelter, though in most cases it fed to most uncomfortable crowding.But the poor know how to sympathize with the poor, and cheerfully borethe discomfort for the sake of alleviating the misfortune which mightsome day come upon themselves.
"Where shall we go, mother?" asked Jimmy anxiously.
Mrs. Hoffman looked doubtfully at Paul.
"I suppose we must seek shelter somewhere," she said.
"How will the Fifth Avenue Hotel suit you?" asked Paul.
"I think I will wait till my new dress is finished," she said, smilingfaintly.
"Why, what's the matter, Paul? You're not burnt out, are you?"
Turning at the voice, Paul recognized Sam Norton, a newsboy, who soldpapers near his own stand.
"Just about so, Sam," he answered. "We're turned into the street."
"And where are you going to stop over night?"
"That's more than I know. Mother here isn't sure whether she prefersthe St Nicholas or Fifth Avenue."
"Paul likes to joke at my expense," said Mrs. Hoffman.
"Come over and stop with us to-night," said Sam. "My mother'll be gladto have you."
"Thank you, Sam," said Mrs. Hoffman, who knew the boy as a friend ofPaul, "but I shouldn't like to trouble your mother."
"It'll be no trouble," said Sam eagerly.
"If you think it won't, Sam," said Paul, "we'll accept for to-night. Iam afraid they wouldn't take us in at any of the big hotels with onlyone dress, and that not made up, by way of baggage. To-morrow I'llfind some other rooms."
"Come along, then," said Sam, leading the way. "We'll have a jollytime to-night, Paul."
"By way of celebrating the fire. It's jolly enough for us, but Ishouldn't like it too often."
"I say, Paul," said Sam, wheeling round, "if you're out of stamps,I've got a dollar or two that I can spare."
"Thank you, Sam; you're a brick! But I've saved my bank-book, and I'vegot plenty to start on. Much obliged to you, all the same."
It was true that Paul was in an unusually good position to withstandthe blow which had so unexpectedly fallen upon him. He had a hundredand fifty dollars in the hands of Mr. Preston, a wealthy gentleman whotook an interest in him, and moreover had a hundred dollars depositedto his credit in a savings-bank, beside his stock in trade, probablyamounting to at least fifty dollars, at the wholesale price. So therewas no immediate reason for anxiety. It would have been ratherawkward, however, to look up a shelter for the night at such shortnotice, and therefore Sam Norton's invitation was particularlywelcome.
Sam led the way to the lodgings occupied by his parents. They werelocated on Pearl street, not far from Centre, and were more spaciousand well furnished than any in the burned tenement house.
"You go up first and tell your mother, Sam," said Paul. "She won'tknow what to make of it if we go in without giving her any notice."
"All right," said Sam. "I'll be down in a jiffy."
Two minutes were sufficient for Sam to explain the situation. Hismother, a good, motherly woman, at once acknowledged the claim uponher hospitality. She came downstairs at once, and said heartily toPaul, whom she knew:
"Come right up, Paul. And so this is your mother. I am very glad tosee you, Mrs. Hoffman. Come right up, and I'll do all I can to makeyou comfortable."
"I am afraid we shall give you trouble, Mrs. Norton," said Mrs.Hoffman.
"Not in the least. The more the merrier, that's my motto. I haven'tgot much to offer, but what there is you are very welcome to."
The room into which they were ushered was covered with a plain, coarsecarpet. The chairs were wooden, but there was a comfortablerocking-chair, a cheap lounge, and a bookcase with a few books,besides several prints upon the wall. Sam's father was a pol
iceman,while his mother was a New England woman of good common-schooleducation, neat and thrifty, and so, though their means were small,she managed to make a comfortable home. Mrs. Hoffman looked around herwith pleased approval. It was pleasant to obtain even temporary refugein so homelike a place.
"Is this your little brother who draws such fine pictures?" asked Mrs.Norton.
Jimmy looked pleased but mystified. How should Mrs. Norton have heardof his pictures?
"You must draw me a picture to-night, won't you?" asked Mrs. Norton.
"I should like to, if I can have a pencil and some paper. All mine areburned up."
"Sam will give you some from his desk. But you must be hungry."
Sam was drawn aside by his mother, and, after a whispered conference,was dispatched to the butcher's and baker's, when he soon returnedwith a supply of rolls and beefsteak, from which in due time anappetizing meal was spread, to which all did full justice.
Slow and Sure: The Story of Paul Hoffman the Young Street-Merchant Page 3