and started him home.

And the rest of us, left behind, kept right on with the work
as though nothing had happened. The queer thing about a calamity
like this is that there is so much to be done on every side that
you don't have a moment to think, and you don't get any of your
values straightened out until afterward. The doctor, without a
moment's hesitation, had risked his life to save Allegra. It was
the bravest thing I ever saw, and yet the whole business occupied
only fifteen minutes out of that dreadful night. At the time, it
was just an incident.

And he saved Allegra. She came out of that blanket with
rumpled hair and a look of pleased surprise at the new game of
peek-a-boo. She was smiling! The child's escape was little
short of a miracle. The fire had started within three feet of
her wall, but owing to the direction of the wind, it had worked
away from her. If Miss Snaith had believed a little more in
fresh air and had left the window open, the fire would have eaten
back. But fortunately Miss Snaith does not believe in fresh
air, and no such thing happened. If Allegra had gone, I never
should have forgiven myself for not letting the Bretlands take
her, and I know that Sandy wouldn't.

Despite all the loss, I can't be anything but happy when I
think of the two horrible tragedies that have been averted. For
seven minutes, while the doctor was penned in that blazing third
floor, I lived through the agony of believing them both gone, and
I start awake in the night trembling with horror.