at, and trembled, and did not leave him again. I shall never forget
that dreadful night. It seemed as if we were there for hours, but in
reality it was only a short time. The hotel soon got to be all red
flames, and there was very little smoke. The inside of the budding had
burned away, and nothing more could be gotten out. The firemen and all
the people drew back, and there was no noise. Everybody stood gazing
silently at the flames. A man stepped quietly up to Mr. Morris, and
looking at him, I saw that it was Mr. Montague. He was usually a
well-dressed man, with a kind face, and a head of thick, grayish brown
hair. Now his face was black and grimy, his hair was burnt from the
front of his head, and his clothes were half torn from his back. Mr.
Morris sprang up when he saw him, and said "Where is your wife?"

The gentleman did not say a word, but pointed to the burning building.
"Impossible!" cried Mr. Morris. "Is there no mistake? Your beautiful
young wife, Montague. Can it be so?" Mr. Morris was trembling from head
to foot.

"It is true," said Mr. Montague, quietly. "Give me the boy." Charlie had
fainted again and his father took him in his arms, and turned away.

"Montague!" cried Mr. Morris, "my heart is sore for you. Can I do
nothing?"

"No, thank you," said the gentleman, without turning around; but there
was more anguish in his voice than in Mr. Morris's, and though I am only
a dog, I knew that his heart was breaking.

CHAPTER XXXV BILLY AND THE ITALIAN

MR. MORRIS stayed no longer. He followed Mr. Montague along the sidewalk
a little way, and then exchanged a few hurried words with some men who
were standing near, and hastened home through streets that seemed dark
and dull after the splendor of the fire. Though it was still the middle
of the night, Mrs. Morris was up and dressed and waiting for him. She
opened the hall door with one hand and held a candle in the other. I
felt frightened and miserable, and didn't want to leave Mr. Morris, so I
crept in after him.

"Don't make a noise," said Mrs. Morris. "Laura and the boys are
sleeping, and I thought it better not to wake them. It has been a
terrible fire, hasn't it? Was it the hotel?" Mr. Morris threw himself
into a chair and covered his face with his hands.

"Speak to me, William!" said Mrs. Morris, in a startled tone. "You are
not hurt, are you?" and she put her candle on the table and came and sat
down beside him.

He dropped his hands from hi