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“Does he?” May Nell stared innocently into the darkening eyes. “I should think that would make you awfully agitated.”, May Nell! Where was she? He had forgotten her! It must be three—four— Oh, how late was it? Was she safe? Or had she fainted from fright; and was she lying there now, helpless? He looked across the plashing river to the green, blossoming isle, grateful for water and grass and green shrub, and the sheltering Lodge that would keep her safe from the fire. Yet the terror of being there alone, of seeing that awful sheet of flame sweep down the mountain to her very feet,—perhaps a fainting spell,—that surely must have followed,—with no one there to revive her, it might be—fatal!, “I guess ours’ll be a grown-up chap; but I wish he’d be a boy my size. How do you guess poor old San Francisco looks to-day?”.