na. "Why do they wear so many
frizzes, and sailor hats on one side?"

"They're chippies," said Helena, wisely.

"What's chippies?"

"Girls that live south of Market Street. They work all day and promenade
with their beaux all evening. As I live, 'Lena, we're going down Fourth
Street. We'll go right through Chippytown."

They had been south of Market Street before, for Ila and Tiny lived on
the aristocratic Rincon Hill; but their way had always lain down Second
Street, which was old, but stately and respectable. Fourth Street, like
Market Street by night, would be a new country; but after a few moments'
eager attention Helena sniffed with disappointment. The narrow street
and those branching from it were ill-lighted and deserted; there was
nothing to be seen but low-browed shops. But there was always the red
glare beyond; and in a few moments the holocaust burst upon them in all
its terrible magnificence.

They sprang out of the hack and walked rapidly to the edge of the crowd,
which filled the street in spite of the warning cries of the firemen and
the angry shouts of the policemen. The fire was devouring four large
squares and sending leaping branches to isolated dwellings beyond. A
great furniture factory and innumerable tenements were vanishing like
icicles under a hot sun.

The girls, careless of the severe jostling they received, stared in
fascinated amazement at the red tongues darting among the blackened
shells, the crashing roofs, the black masses of smoke above, cut with
narrow swords of flame, the solid pillar of fire above the factory, the
futile streams of water, the gallant efforts of the firemen. Magdalena,
hardly knowing why, reflected with deep satisfaction that a fire was
even more wonderful at close quarters than when viewed from a distance.
Every detail delighted her; but when a clumsy boy stepped on her toes,
she drew Helena into a sand lot opposite, where it was less crowded. It
was then that she noticed for the first time the weeping women gathered
about their household goods. She stared at them for a moment, then shook
the rapt Helena by the arm.

"Look!" she whispered. "What is the matter with those people?"

"What?" asked Helena, absently. "Oh, don't I wish I were on that house
with a hose in my hand! What a lovely exciting life a fireman's must
be!" Then, yielding to Magdalena's insistence, she turned and directed
her gaze to the people in the lot behind her. "Oh, the poor things!" she