There was not a sound from upstairs—­no crackling of flames.  Ruth would never have believed the dormitory was afire had she not seen the fire outside.

The girl ran down the corridor to Miss Scrimp’s room, and burst in the door like a young hurricane.  The matron was at tea, and she leaped up in utter amazement when she saw Ruth.

“For the good land’s sake, Ruthie Fielding!” she ejaculated.  “Whatever is the matter with you?”

“Fire!” cried Ruth.  “One of the rooms on the next floor—­front—­is all afire!  I saw it from the dining hall!  Mrs. Tellingham has telephoned for the department at Lumberton——­”

With a shriek of alarm, Miss Scrimp picked up the little old “brown Betty” teapot off the hearth of her small stove, and started out of the room with it—­whether with the expectation of putting out the fire with the contents of the pot, or not, Ruth never learned.

But when the lady was half way up the first flight of stairs the flames suddenly burst through the doorframe, and Miss Scrimp stopped.

“That candle!” she shrieked.  “I knew I had no business to give that girl that candle.”

“Who?” asked Ruth.

“That infant—­Amy Gregg her name is.  I’ll tell Mrs. Tellingham——­”

“But please don’t tell anybody else, Miss Scrimp,” begged Ruth.  “It will be awful for Amy if it becomes generally known that she is at fault.”

“Well, now,” said the matron more calmly, coming down the stairs again.  “You are right, Ruthie—­you thoughtful child.  We can’t do a thing up there,” she added, as she reached the lower floor again.  “All we can do is to take such things out as we can off this floor,” and she promptly marched out with the little tea-pot and deposited it carefully on the grassplot right where somebody would be sure to step on it when the firemen arrived.

Miss Scrimp prided herself upon having great presence of mind in an emergency like this.  A little later Ruth saw the good woman open her window and toss out her best mirror upon the cement walk.

Miss Picolet came flying toward the burning building, chattering about her treasures she had brought from France.  “Le Bon Dieu will not let to burn up my mothair’s picture—­my harp—­my confirmation veil—­all, all I have of my youth left!” chattered the excited little Frenchwoman, and because of her distress and her weakness, Ruth helped remove the harp and likewise the featherbed on which the French teacher always slept and which had come with her from France years before.

By the time these treasures were out of the house a crowd came running from the main building—­Mrs. Foyle, some of the kitchen girls and waitresses, Tony dragging the hose cart, and last of all Dr. Tellingham himself.

The good old doctor was the most absent minded man in the world, and the least useful in a practical way in any emergency.  He never had anything of importance to do with the government of the school; but he sometimes gave the girls wonderfully interesting lectures on historical subjects.  He wrote histories that were seldom printed save in private editions; but most of the girls thought the odd old gentleman a really wonderful scholar.