"
The secretary was waiting to speak to me. The fire, he said, had entirely
burned up one square and was half through a second. "By the way, isn't
that the street where old P.T.B.----"
"Yes," I replied, taking my hat; "if anyone wants to see me, you'd better
tell him to call to-morrow."
I found the shop in St. Peter's Street shut, and went on to the new
residence. As I came near it, its beauty seemed to me to have consciously
increased under the threatenings of destruction.
In the front gate stood the brother-in-law's widow, full of gestures and
distressful smiles as she leaned out with nervously folded arms and looked
up and down the street. "Manouvrier? he is ad the fire since a whole hour.
He will break his heart if dat fire ketch to dat 'ouse here. He cannot
know 'ow 'tis in danger! Ah! sen' him word? I sen' him fo' five time'--he
sen' back I stay righd there an' not touch nut'n'! Ah! my God! I fine dat
varrie te-de-ous, me, yass!"
"Is his wife with him?"
"Assuredly! You see, dey git 'fraid 'bout dat 'ouse of de Sister', you
know?"
"No, where is it?"
"No? You dunno dat lill' 'ouse where de Sister' keep dose orphelin'
ba-bee'?-juz big-inning sinse 'bout two week' ago?-round de corner--one
square mo' down town--'alf square mo' nearer de swamp? Well, I thing 'f
you pass yondeh you fine Pastropbon.
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