She crowded the elephant with Noah and the rest of his charge back into the
ark and closed the lid. "I can't throw this out of the window," she
reflected. "They would spill. I must take it out on the sidewalk. Land! The
fire's going out! That girl doesn't know how to build fires so they will
keep."

She laid the Noah's ark on the table, and going to the closet tugged out
several big logs, which she arranged geometrically. About laying fires, as
about most other things, Miss Terry had her own positive theories. Taking
the bellows in hand she blew furiously, and was presently rewarded with a
brisk blaze. She smiled with satisfaction, and trotted upstairs to find her
red knit shawl. With this about her shoulders she was prepared to brave the
December frost. Down the steps she went, and deposited the ark discreetly
at their foot; then returned to take up her position behind the curtains.

There were a good many people passing, but they seemed too preoccupied to
glance down at the sidewalk. They were nearly all hurrying in one
direction. Some were running in the middle of the street.

"They are in a great hurry," sniffed Miss Terry disdainfully. "One would
think they had something really important on hand. I suppose they are going
to hear the singing. Fiddlestick!"

A man hastened by under the window; a woman; two children, a boy and a
girl, running and gesticulating eagerly. None of them noticed the Noah's
ark lying at the foot of the steps.

Miss Terry began to grow impatient. "Are they all blind?" she fretted.
"What is the matter with them? I wish somebody would find the thing. I am
tired of seeing it lying there."