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The firemen began bringing trunks down the stairs; they wouldn’t let us go up at first. It really was a wonderful scene, at the foot of the stairs, lots of us paddling about in that lake, and perfectly lost to all sense of–what shall I say?–well, correctness. I do believe most of us had forgotten all about civilization. We wanted our things. We wanted our things so badly that we even lost our interest in the origin of the fire and in the question whether we should get anything out of the insurance company. By the way, I mustn’t omit to tell you that we never saw the proprietors after the fire was out; the proprietors could only be seen by appointment. The German and Swiss waiters had to bear the brunt of us.

I was very lucky. I received both my trunks nearly at once. They came sliding on a plank down those stairs. And most of my things were in them too. I was determined to be energetic then, and to get out of all that crowd. Do you know what I did? I simply called two men in out of the street, and told them to shoulder my trunks into the main building of the hotel. I defied policemen and the superintendent of the fire-brigade. And in the main building I demanded a bedroom, and I was told that everything would be done to accommodate me as quickly as possible. So I went straight upstairs and told the men to follow me, and I began knocking at every door till I found a room that wasn’t occupied, and I took possession of it, and gave the men a shilling a piece. They seemed to expect half-a-crown, because I’d been in a fire, I suppose! Curious ideas odd job men have! Then I dressed myself out of what was left of my belongings and went down again.

All the people said how lucky I was, and what presence of mind I had, and how calm and practical I was, and so on and so on. But they didn’t know that I’d been stupid enough not to give a thought to Ellis’s blue suit. One can’t think of everything, and I didn’t think of that. I believe if I had thought of it, at the start, I should have taken the bonnet-box with me at any cost.

I came across Ellis; smoking a cigarette, of course, just to show, I suppose, that a fire was a most ordinary event to him. He was completely dressed, like me. He had saved the whole of his belongings. He said the Smiths were fixing themselves up in private rooms somewhere, and would be down soon. So we moved along into the dining-room and had breakfast. The place was full and noisy. Ellis was exceedingly facetious. He said:

“Well, auntie, did you have a pretty good night?”

Also:

“A fire is a very clumsy way of waking you up in the morning. A bell would be much simpler, and cost less,” etcetera, etcetera. And then he said:

“A nice thing, auntie, if I’d followed your advice and brought my beauteous new suit! It would have been bound to be burnt to a cinder. One’s best suit always is in a fire.”

I ought to have told him then the trick I’d played on him, but I didn’t. I merely agreed with him in a lame sort of way that it would have been a nice thing if he’d brought his beauteous suit. I hoped that I might be able later on to invent some good excuse, something really plausible, for having brought along with me his newest suit unknown to him. But the more I reflected the more I couldn’t think of anything clever enough.

Then the three Smiths came in. There was some queer attire in that dining-room, but I think that Mrs Smith won the gold medal for queerness. All her “colonialness” had come suddenly out. They evidently hadn’t been very fortunate. But they didn’t seem to mind much. They hadn’t thought very highly of the hotel before, and they accepted the fire good-humouredly as one of the necessary drawbacks of a hotel that wasn’t quite up to their Winnipeg form. Nellie Smith was delightful. I must say she was delightful, and she looked delightful. She was wearing a blue-and-red striped petticoat, rather short, and a white jersey, and over that a man’s blue jacket, which fitted her pretty well. She looked indescribably pert and charming, though the jacket was dirty and stained.