"I know all the elevator men, 'cause I've lived in this hotel a whole
year. My aunt won't care 'cause she won't see us, so she won't be
worried. I don't like her to worry."
"Me either," said Freddie. So the two little boys, making sure Mrs.
Whipple was still looking from the front windows of her apartment, to see
what all the excitement was about, stole out of a door into the side hall
and so reached the elevators.
"Down, George!" called Laddie to the colored elevator man.
"Down it am, Master Laddie," was the good-natured answer. "Where is yo'all
gwine?"
"To see the fire," was the answer. "Don't he talk funny?" asked Laddie of
Freddie, as they left the elevator at the ground floor.
"He talks just like our colored cook, Dinah," said Freddie. "Did you ever
see her?"
"Nope."
"You ought to eat some of her pancakes," went on Freddie. "I'll write,
when I have a chance, and ask her to send you some."
"Oh, hear the engines whistlin'!" cried Laddie. "Hurry up, or maybe
they'll be gone before we get there."
The fire was not near enough to the hotel to cause any danger, though many
of the hotel guests were excited, and so no attention was paid to the
small boys, Freddie and Laddie, as they hurried out to see all that was
going on. There was a crowd in the side street and more engines and hook
and ladder trucks were dashing up to help put out the fire.
From the blazing store great clouds of black smoke were pouring out, and
firemen were rushing here and there.
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