The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1908-01-10
The EVENING STORY
Harvey's Fire.
[By Lulu Johnson.1

OuOer the winter moon the snow
cleaned as brilliantly as if some giant
| hand had sprinkled powdered diamonds
upon the smooth, white crust. Here
and there gaunt, naked trees spread
black shadows and the lines of fence
blocked the glittering expanse into reg
ular squares.
But the beauty of perfect night was
lost on Harvey Grantley as he stood in
| the library window, peering through
| the frosted glass.
Harvey saw only the big house on
the hill with it's lights cleaning
of that house, Burden Porter, had a
fancy for leaving the curtains up so
that the lights might stream out I'M
checked by holland shade or damask
fabric.
| He liked to see the place ablaze with
light at night, and the suggestion of
cheer warmed his heart as he approach
| ed 1t in the winter evenings. And the
Porter house was at the very top of the
hill, where 1T could be seen for miles
around.
| Tonight the brilliant lights brought
| no suggestion of warmth and cheer to
! Harvey; indeed, he did not notice the
lights save to wonder in which room
| The chances were that she was in
| the music room, from which shown the
softer lights of shaded lamps. She
might be sitting there. playing softly.
SO we'll He, too, loved to sit quietly.
! listening to the old melodies and en-
| Joying the CLINT of lamphght on the
brown hair and the soft warmth of
| flesh tones.
| But that was all over now. Never
| again would he sit there in the music
i room. The old songs that she loved to
Groom would no longer bring him pleas
ure. They could only serve now to re-
| call the happy days of the past, for he
and Amy had quarreled, and parted
with the VOW that the other must be
| the first to ask pardon.
He was certain that he would never
acknowledge a fault of which he was
not conscious, and he knew equally well
| that 1T would be idle to expect her to
| speak first.
He looked out across the fields and
vaguely planned to go on a trip. He
did not know where he wanted to go,
but it should be where he would never
| even hear of Brookfield again. He
| could never live On there, passing Amy
every day and never speaking.
In a sudden frame of anger he de-
clared he was glad it was all over. He
was glad that he was free to go whittier
he might. But his eyes turned longing
|. ly toward the house on the hill even as
he mentally recited his declaration of
independence.
of binding light followed by a rosy
glare, and presently a cloud of smoke
drifted above the house, cleaning white
as 1t scared into the roof. A fire had
been started. probably by the explosion
of a lamp.
With no thought of the quarrel Har-
vey caught up his hat and coat and
dashed out of the house. There was a
short cut across the fields and he made
for the gap in the hedge through which
he was accustomed to slip. 1t cut half
a mile off the trip to the house and he
could cover the distance in five min
utes though it was steep climb In
places.
AS he ran he thought of a thousand
possible accidents, but always Amy
was the central figure in the tableau OF
horror. He could see her wrapped In
flaming, oil-soaked garments. He could
see the whole house ablaze through the
explosion Of the boiler that fed the heat
ing system, with Amy covering at the
top of the blazing stairway.
His active brain devised a hundred
horrors as he rushed blindly on. A
clump Of frs cut off his view Of the
house, and he could see nothing above
the dark shadows Of the grove.
The crust was hard and slippery.
More than once he went crashing to his
knees, only to pick himself up and
hurry onward. He had almost gained
the thicket of frs and was climbing
through the last tangle of brush against
the fence, when dainty form emerged
from the shadows and came toward
him.
For an instant his blood chilled as he
thought that this, perhaps, might be
Amy's ghost. The quarrel had made
deep impression upon his sensitive
Imagination, and the idea did not seem
absurd to his overweight mind, but as
this was no creation Of the spirit, but
substantial flesh and blood.
Thank God you are safer' he cried.
Are you going for help?"
IT am going skating and don't need
anv help, thank you," was the saucy
response, tempered by ripping laugh.
But the house is on fire. expostu-
lated Harvey
mot at ALL declared Amy. What
gave you that idea?' s
She eyed him sharply and moved
away. His face was scratched and
bleeding, his hat was tilted at most
rakish angle and his wild look and
labored breathing testified to his men
tai excitement.
IT saw the flash Of an explosion and
the glare of flames and I hurried to
your relief" explained Harvey.
Then you do care cried Amy. Gin
spite of what you said this afternoon"
1T had forgotten this afternoon" he
answered simply. Il only knew that
you were in danger"
"And you came to my aid" she said
softly but her voice grew sharper as
she added. 'And did you purpose wait
ing until I cried for help and spoke first
before you rescued me?"
"I told you that I had forgotten
that he said reproachfully. Il did
speak first, didn't II"
you did," she admitted, land for
that I shall tell you what the fire was.
1t was a combination Of fiashlight and
red fire. It was Teddy trying an ex-
pertinent for those private theatricals
the boys of the school are getting up.
1t was a realistic fire effect-even to
the smoke. There was too much Of that. |
We had to open all the windows and |