The St. Mary banner. (Franklin, Parish of St. Mary, La.) 1889-1931, 1902-03-15

It was one o'clock tha dead hour

It was one o'clock tha dead hour
Of night.
At three, came a terrific banging on
Mr.. Rooterby's door. accompanied by
a scream. and Mr.. Root:erby, before
he was wide awake was out in the
hall in his dressing gown.
1t was the typewriter in a cloud OF
white and the hall full OF smoke, and
people below banging doors and shout
ing and fire bell changing around the
corner.
Mamma" she gasped and down she
dashed in from his house in the next
block, and Mr.. Rooterby. dropping hel
in the most unromantic fashion, flew
up to the fourth floor where the wild
ow and her daughter occupied the
front rooms.
There he found her just coming out
Of faint, and as she caught her scat
tered wits, for the widow was wo
man of rare sense and presence OF
mind after the first shock, she grab
bed his outstretched hand and groped
her way with him to the head of the
stairs. A tongue Of fame met them
at that point, and for an instant Mr..
Rooterby's heart failed him. He
knew there was no fire escape at the
front Of the house, and access to the
back was cut of by the nre which
had taken possession Of the stairway,
But the widow was in no wise daunt.
ed.
Come" she said, Il have rope es'
cape in my room. We can 60 down by
that. had it built for two"
Mr.. Rooterby had told her at first
that her daughter was safe on the
floor below.
The flames were yet some distan' &
from the front win dows, with a dcol
shut between them and the outer all
and in a second Mr.. Rooterby had Sc
cured the ropes en- d to the win low
and had adjusted the widow and him
self for the more or less perilous triI
to safety.
Whoever's make tn e fire escape was
it was a most excel ent one, and be.
fore Mr.. Rooterby hail got to the sec
ond story window he was perfectly at
home in controlling the thing and
he stopped it twenty feet from the
ground.
The widow, who was dangling below
him, gave a nervouo start, fearing
some accident.
What is it, Mr.. Rooterby?" she In.
quired.
"My dear mad.am," replied Mr..
Rooterby, with as much feeling as the
circumstances would permit, will you
be my wife,"
"Who, what do you mean?" gas,ped
the widow, almost losing her balance
at the unexpectedness of it.
81 mean will you marry me, Of
course. How else could you be my
wife,"
This was a poser.
But your resolution, Mr.. Rooter.
by?" replied the widow, looking up at
him as shyly as she could, considering
her position.
What resolution" inquired Mr..
Rooterby.
why the one you made when the
New Year came in, that you wouldn't
marry any woman on earth"
Mr.. Rooterby was stumped but for
an instant only.
"That doesn't apply here at ALL"
he said confidently. "You arc not on
earth, and you never will be If you
don't accept me right now, for have
wasted time enough, and the thought
a few minutes ago that l was going
to lose you in that frightful blaze"
The widow had recovered her senses
again.
"Mr. Rooterby," she Interrupted,
with some degree of asperity, don't
you see what a spectacle you are
making of yourself? I'm willing to
do anything to get down from this"
And it was even more ridiculous
spectacle flve minutes later, when Mr..
Rooterby, in his dressing gown, with
his arm around the widow in fluffy
smoked wrapper, met the cashier in
an overcoat and boots holding fast
to the typewriter in something white.
and the fremen trying to turn the
hose on all of them.
fully insured and what a happy New
Year it was to the cashier.-New York
Sun.