"Some earthquake, what? You are sure you are not hurt, mommy dear? The
plaster is down all over the house."
"More slang that you have learned from Aileen Lawton, I presume.
It certainly was a dreadful earthquake, worse than that of
eighteen-sixty-eight. Is anything valuable broken? There is always less
damage done on the hills. What is that abominable noise?"
The cook, who had recovered from her first attack, was emitting another
volley of shrieks, in which the word "fire" could be distinguished in
syllables of two.
Mrs. Groome rang the bell violently and the imperturbable James appeared.
"Is the house on fire?"
"No, ma'am; only the city. It's worth looking at, if you care to step out
on the lawn."
Mrs. Groome followed her daughter downstairs and out of the house. Her
eyebrows were raised but there was a curious sensation in her knees that
even the earthquake had failed to induce. She sank into the chair James had
provided and clutched the arms with both hands.
"There are always fires after earthquakes," she muttered. "Impossible!
Impossible!"
"Oh, do you think San Francisco is really going?" cried Alexina, but there
was a thrill in her regret. "Oh, but it couldn't be."
"No! impossible, impossible!"
Black clouds of smoke shot with red tongues of flame overhung the city at
different points, although they appeared to be more dense and frequent down
in the "South of Market Street" region.
Pages:
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26