The Washington herald., 1916-05-22

things in gasolene. Don't
light the stove until I'm
through cautioned Helen.
81 was just goin' to put on an iron
for them doilies," grumbled Dora,
who never took an order without
some objection.
Wei they can wait. Now don't
strike any matches. Get me that
big pan you use for the starch:
In the bathroom Helen emPtied
the whole half gallon of gasolene
into the starch pan and dipped into
it her chiffon waist.
The filmy material wilted down as
it soaked up the fluid. Her hands
in rubber gloves, she swished it
around, held it up to drain, and
pinned it to the shade before the
open window
After dipping a lace collar and the
net yoke and sleeves of her gray
taffeta, the gasolene was still clear
enough for something else. While
she was at it, she would clean those
pink satin slippers.
Even with the open window, the
stupefying fumes were now sicken-
ingly strong Hastily, with held
breath, she immersed the slippers,
brushing them with a soft nailbrush.
The soiled gasolene she always
saved to use again after it had
cleared by standing, but now, too
dizzy to pour it back into the small
mouthed bottle, she emptied it out
into the washbasin. Then, escaping
from the bathroom, she closed the
door on the sitting fumes.
Here, Dora" as she took the
starch pan out to the kitchen, wash
this out well. This gasolene bottles
empty-I'll put it here on the lower
shelf Be careful not to use it for
anything else"
When, a little later, she went
back to the bathroom, the waist,
except for the thicker parts around
dry. It was beautifully white. Had
would have charged s. and done it
no better.
1t was now after three, and she
was. anxious for the things to dry
quickly so there would be no traces
Of odor when Warren came home.
He had repeatedly forbidden her
to use gasolene, insisting that he
would pay any amount of cleaners
bills rather than have her take
chances with this inflammable fluid
The dress on the towel rack she
rearranged so the air could get to
the yoke and sleeves, but the slip
pers on the stone ledge outside the
window were still quite wet
She had just examined one and
set it back when a lighted cigar butt,
tossed from a window above, fell
straight into the pink satin toe.
A sizzling flash and the gasolene-
soaked slipper was aflame. For a
second, Helen stood petrifed. Then,
Jerking up a long-handled bath
brush. she thrust it off the ledge
But it was too late! The blaze had
leaped to the thin lace waist
Screaming for Dora, she hurled
the waist into the bath tub and
turned on the water. But now the
dress had caught and the flames
were leaping up the tiled wall.
Dora, bursting open the door,
stared panicstricken, then rushed
back shrieking: "Firel FireI"
The water. now filling the tub, ex-
'inguished the waist; but the dress,
which hung on the towel rack, was
to poke it down into the tub with
X
ing over to turn on the shower, the
flames caught the lace of her kimono
sleeve, saturated with the gasolene
fumes.
She might easily have smothered
it with the heavy bath mat, but
now, paralyzed with terror, she ran
wildly out, too frightened even to
scream. Blindly she dashed through
the hall door that Dora had left
open.
After that everything was a dazed
blur The draughty elevator shaft
famed the flaming sleeve as she
flew stumblingly down the encircling
stairway. Excited voices, rushing
feet and Dora's still piercing shrieks
of "Firew
Some one caught her. Something
heavy was thrown about her. The
rest blurred into oblivion;
I've sent for her husband" 1t
was a woman's voice, lowered to a
discreet whisper.