Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-05-02
THE DAILY STORY
One of World Famous Works of Literature.

lars were In heaps about. Some enc
whom she could not see was dying Just
behind her. A little girl who worked
In her roona-a mere child-was crying
between her groans for her mother. Del
Ivory, whom she knew well, sat In o
little open space, cushioned about with
reels Of cotton; she had a shallow cash
IN her check; she was wringing her
hands.
They were at work from the outside,
saving entrances through the laby-
rinth OF planks. A dead woman lay
close by, and Sene ESQ Asenath was
nicknamed) saw them draw her out.
1t was Meg Match. One of the pretty
Irish girls was crushed out of sight:
only one hand was free; she moved it
feebly. In little while the hand was
still. Beyond they dug a man out
from under dead body, unhurt.
AS consciousness came fully, agony
grew. Sene shut her lips and folded
her bleeding hands together and uttered
no cry. Del did enough screaming for
two. How far could she support this
slow bleeding away? She thought of
her bright little kitchen and the supper
set for three; of the song she had sung
in the flush of the morning. Life
even her hfe-grew sweet now that It
was slipping from her.
Del cried presently that they were
cutting them out. The glare of the
bonf1res struck through an opening;
saws and axes flashed; voices grew dis
tinct But they could not reach Sene
unless she got her feet free and crawled
to them. Del tried to lift the brick,
but saw blood on them and cried. A
Scotch girl, with shattered arm, re-
moved some of them and tainted
The opening broadened. frightened;
the sweet night wind blew in; the safe
night sky shone through. Sene's heart
leaped within her. Out in the wind
under the sky she would stand again
after all! Back in the little kitchen,
where the sun shone and she could sing
a song, there would yet be place for
her. She worked her head from under
the beam and raised herself upon her
elbow At that moment she heard a
cry!
Fire! Firel The ruins are on fre!"
Sene smelled smoke. It grew red
toward the left. To lie here and watch
the redness crawling after her, spring
ing at her! 1t had seemed greater
than reason could bear at first.
They were working to save her with
rigid, stern faces. A plank snapped, a
rod yielded; they drew out the Scotch
girl-her hair was singed. Then a man
with blood upon his face and wrists
held down his arms and drew Del out.
Asenath watched through the glare and
smoke with parched lips. She closed
her eyes. When she opened them there
was only the smoke writhing up pillar
of blood-red flame.
But they had not given her up yet.
In the still unburnt rubbish at the
right some one had wrenched an OPEN
ing within foot of Sene's face. They
clawed at the solid iron like savage
things. A fireman tainted in the glow.
At last they had to fall back, exhausted.
They could not make it! They could
not reach her!
Then out above the crackle and the
roar of the fire woman's voice, Sene's
voice, rose like a bell: We're going
home to die no more" Other notes
wavered in the chorus. From sealed
and unseen graves white young lips
swelled the glad refrain: Were going,
going home"
The crawling smoke turned yellow,
turned red. Voice after voice broke and
hushed utterly. One only sang on like
silver. 1t flung defiance down at death.
1t chimed into the lurid sky without a
tremor. For one must find relief In
eXultation-"To die no more, to die no
more. we're going home to die no more"