But at last she came running down, breathless, shrugging herself into her bolero jacket.  They all hurried into the street and turned in the direction of the blaze.  Other people were walking rapidly in the same direction, and there was an opening and shutting of windows and front doors.  A steamer thundered past, clanging and smoking, followed by a score of half-exhausted boys.  It took them longer to reach the fire than they expected, and by the time they had come within two blocks of it they were quite out of breath.  Here the excitement was lively; the sidewalks were full of people going in the same direction; on all sides there were guesses as to where the fire was.  On the front steps of many houses stood middle-aged gentlemen, still holding their evening papers and cigars, very amused and interested in watching the crowd go past.  One heard them from time to time calling to their little sons, who were dancing on the sidewalks, forbidding them to go; in the open windows above could be seen the other members of the family, their faces faintly tinged with the glow, looking and pointing, or calling across the street to their friends in the opposite houses.  Every one was in good humour; it was an event, a fete for the entire neighbourhood.

Vandover and his party came at last to the first engines violently pumping and coughing, the huge gray horses standing near by, already unhitched and blanketed, indifferently feeding in their nosebags.  Some of the crowd preferred to watch the engines rather than the fire, and there were even some who were coming away from it, exclaiming “false alarm” or “all out now.”

The party had come up quite close; they could smell the burning wood and could see the roofs of the nearer houses beginning to stand out sharp and black against the red glow beyond.  It was a barn behind a huge frame house that was afire, the dry hay burning like powder, and by the time they reached it the flames were already dwindling.  The hose was lying like a python all about the streets, while upon the neighbouring roofs were groups of firemen with helmets and axes; some were shouting into the street below, and others were holding the spouting nozzles of the hose.  “Ah,” exclaimed an old man, standing near to Ida and Vandover, “ah, I was here when it first broke out; you ought to have seen the flames then!  Look, there’s a tree catching!”

The crowd became denser; policemen pushed it back and stretched a rope across the street.  There was a world of tumbling yellow smoke that made one’s eyes smart, and a great crackling and snapping of flames.  Terribly excited little boys were about everywhere whistling and calling for each other as the crowd separated them.

They watched the fire for some time, standing on a pile of boards in front of a half-built house, but as it dwindled they wearied of it.

“Want to go?” asked Vandover at last.

“Yes,” answered Ida, “we might as well.  Oh, where’s Bessie and Ellis?” They were nowhere to be seen.  Vandover whistled and Ida even called, but in vain.  The little boys in the crowd mimicked Ida, crying back, “Hey!  Bessie!  Oh, Bes-see, mommer wants you!” The men who stood near laughed at this, but it annoyed Vandover much more than it did Ida.