Chase Josephine - Patsy Carroll Under Southern Skies

“Come on up to our room, girls, and we’ll make chocolate,” proposed Patsy. “It will probably take away our appetites for dinner, but who cares? I don’t believe I’d have much appetite, anyhow. I’m all upset about this vacation business.”

Seated about the writing table which Patsy had cleared for the occasion, the Wayfarers were presently sipping hot chocolate and devouring sweet crackers to the accompaniment of a mournful discussion of the situation.

As a result none of them had any enthusiasm for either dinner or study that evening. Dinner over they gathered once more in Patsy’s room, still too full of their recent disappointment to banish it from conversation.

“We can’t make a single plan until we know what Aunt Martha wants to do,” asserted Patsy with a sigh. “Oh, I forgot to write to her before dinner! I must do it now. Excuse me, Perry children. Bee will amuse you. Bee, entertain the young ladies. I’m going to be busy for a little while.”

“We must go,” declared Eleanor, rising. “It’s half-past eight. I really ought to study a little bit. Mab, you’ve a whole page in Spanish to translate. You’d better come along.”

“All right. Just listen to the wind!” Mabel held up her hand. “How it shrieks and whistles and wails! The banshees are out, sailing around in the air to-night, I imagine.”

“I’m glad we’re not out, sailing around the campus,” commented Beatrice. “We’d certainly sail. We couldn’t keep our feet on the ground. We’d be blown about like leaves.”

“I think I’d like to go out and fight with the wind,” announced valiant Patsy. “As soon as I write my letter I’m going to take it out to the mail box.”

“Good-bye, then. I may never see you again,” laughed Eleanor, her hand on the door. “You’ll be blown into the next county if you venture out to-night.”

“Then I’ll turn around and let the wind blow me back again,” retorted Patsy, undismayed by Eleanor’s warning.

The two Perrys having bade their chums good night and departed for their own room, Patsy settled down to the writing of her letter. Though her fountain pen fled over the paper at rapid speed, it was half-past nine when she committed the product of her industry to an envelope.

“There!” she said, as she finished writing the address and affixed a stamp. “I’m going to put on my fur coat and go out to the mail box with this.”

“Why don’t you mail it in the morning?” Beatrice advised. “I wouldn’t go out in that wind if I were you.”

“But you’re not Patsy Carroll,” laughed Patsy. “You’re ever so much nicer than she is, but not half so reckless.”

“All right,” smiled Beatrice. “Go ahead and be whisked into the next county. I’ll send a search party after you in the morning.”

“Farewell, farewell!” declaimed Patsy, as she dived into a closet for her fur coat. “I sha’n’t wear a hat. The wind can’t rip off my auburn locks no matter how hard it may try.”

Once out of the dormitory, Patsy had not gone six yards before she realized that Eleanor’s prediction was likely to be fulfilled. The gale swept her along as if a great hand were at her back, forcing her relentlessly forward.

“It’s going to be worse coming back,” she muttered, when at last she had reached the mail box and dropped her letter into it. “I’m certainly going to have a real fight with this rough old wind.”

Turning, she started defiantly toward the dormitory, forging stolidly along in the teeth of the blast.

Crossing the campus diagonally she was over half way to the dormitory when of a sudden she cried out in alarm. At the shadowed rear of the building she had glimpsed something calculated to inspire fear. Rising from the structure was a thick cloud, unmistakably smoke. As she hurried on, her heart pounding wildly, she saw that which fully confirmed her fears. A long yellow tongue of flame pierced the smoke cloud and shot high above it. The dormitory was on fire!

The few rods that lay between Patsy and the dormitory seemed miles. Flinging open the massive front door at last, she bounded into the corridor. To her dismay, no sounds of excited voices or running feet were to be heard. She could not even smell smoke.

Stopping only long enough to peer into the big living room which was deserted of occupants, she dashed down the long corridor to the heavy double doors leading into the dining room. As she swung one of them open and darted through, a strong smell of burning wood assailed her nostrils.

Instantly she turned and fled back to the corridor. Under the stairs hung a large gong. Next second it was clanging out its harsh command to fire drill. Like every other modern institution of learning, Yardley had its fire drill in which every person in the dormitory was obliged to take part.

Patsy’s next act was to dart to the telephone. Though her voice quivered with excitement, as she asked Central to turn in the fire alarm, her head was clear and her mind in good working order. She hoped her classmates would show no signs of panic.

Soon the steady tramp, tramp of feet announced that the fire drill was in progress. Down the stairs and into the main corridor filed a procession of girls, some fully dressed, others with long coats thrown on over half-fitted negligees. Though a buzz of voices filled the air, the girls lined up on each side of the corridor in orderly fashion to await further developments.

By this time the matron, Mrs. Ainslee, had gained the corridor and had promptly taken charge of the situation.

“The back of the dormitory is on fire!” were Patsy’s first words to the matron. “I saw it from the campus. I had gone out to mail a letter. I rang the gong and turned in an alarm to Central. It’s very serious on account of the way the wind’s blowing. If the Alden Hose Company doesn’t get here quick the fire will spread so fast that nothing can stop it. I think we ought to get together all the buckets we can and fight it until the fire engines get here.”

“A good plan,” approved Mrs. Ainslee. “Girls,” she called out in a clear, resonant voice, “the rear of the dormitory is on fire. First I’m going to call the roll to be sure you are all here. Next I need twenty-four girls, eight to each floor, to go after the fire buckets. I will ask the first twelve on each side at this end of the lines to go. Stop at the second floor bath room and fill up the buckets. We may be unable to get to the kitchen faucets. As soon as the buckets are filled report here for duty. The rest of you will wait until these girls have started upstairs, then file out of the house and onto the lawn.”

Turning to Patsy she said: “Stay here with me, Miss Carroll. I need you for another purpose.”

With this she hurried to her office on the same floor, returning with her register. The roll called and everyone responding, she directed her attention to the bucket brigade. They were soon started in good order for the stairs. As soon as the last girl had set foot on the stairs, the two lines began to move toward the door. Following, Mrs. Ainslee watched them safely outside, then returned to where Patsy stood waiting.

“You and I will investigate the fire and see what can be done,” she said briefly, and started down the corridor toward the dining room. In spite of the heavy doors the smoke had now become noticeable even in the corridor. Throwing open one of the double doors, a dense cloud of smoke poured over both women, causing them to draw back in a hurry, eyes and throats smarting.

“We – can’t – go – that – way,” declared the matron in a choking voice, as she swung the door shut. “We’ll have to fight the fire from the outside. I’m afraid we can’t do much. It seems to have gained a good deal of headway in a very short time. I am going to ask you to stand in the corridor, Miss Carroll, while I go outside. As the girls come downstairs with the buckets, count them. Send them out doors and to the rear of the dormitory. I shall be there to tell them what to do. When the last one is safely out, then join me.”