You see there is a little door in the floor of the
balcony and an iron ladder leading to the balcony beneath, and so
on, down to the first story."
"And you have to creep through that hole and go down that dreadful
steep ladder every time there is a fire?" said Euphemia.
"Well, I guess we would never go down but once," he answered.
"No, indeed," said Euphemia; "you'd fall down and break your neck
the first time," and she turned away from the window with a very
grave expression on her face.
Soon after this our hostess conducted Euphemia to the guest-
chamber, while her husband and I finished a bed-time cigar.
When I joined Euphemia in her room, she met me with a mysterious
expression on her face. She shut the door, and then said in a very
earnest tone:
"Do you see that little bedstead in the corner? I did not notice
it until I came in just now, and then, being quite astonished, I
said, 'Why here's a child's bed; who sleeps here?' 'Oh,' says she,
'that's our little Adele's bedstead. We have it in our room when
she's here.' 'Little Adele!' said I, 'I didn't know she was
little--not small enough for that bed, at any rate.' 'Why, yes,'
said she, 'Adele is only four years old. The bedstead is quite
large enough for her.' 'And she is not here now?' I said, utterly
amazed at all this. 'No,' she answered, 'she is not here now, but
we try to have her with us as much as we can, and always keep her
little bed ready for her.' 'I suppose she's with her father's
people,' I said, and she answered, 'Oh yes,' and bade me good-
night.
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