Polly remembered her face as she flashed by. She sat at the next table
to theirs in the dining room, with a slender, gentle, little old lady
whom she called "Grandmamma." "O dear!" groaned Polly, "we _must_
help her!"

Jasper dashed after the girl, and Polly ran, too. He laid his hand on
the arm of the flying figure as she broke through the crowd, but she
shook him off like a feather. "She's up there," pointing above, "and I
must get her."

One of the firemen seized her and held her fast. Jasper sprang for the
fire-escape. "_Jasper!_" called Polly, hoarsely, "it will kill
Grandpapa if you go--oh!" She turned at a cry from the girl, whose arms
were around a bent, shaking, little figure, and they had both sunk to
the ground.

"I brought her down long ago," said another fireman, who could speak
English, pointing to the white-haired old lady, who, on hearing her
granddaughter's voice, had pushed her way through the crowd, as Dr.
Fisher hurried up.

And then Mr. King and his party gathered his group, and they hurried to
another hotel close by, Jasper and Mr. Henderson and Mother Fisher
waiting to see to the belongings of the party; for the fire was now
subdued, although the guests had to go elsewhere for shelter, and the
little doctor was in his element, taking care of the old lady, and then
he rushed off to look after a score or more of other fainting women.

But nobody was really hurt--the smoke and the panic had been the worst,