"
"Dynamite!" exclaimed Ethel Brown, looking at her hand as she
remembered that she had not been especially gentle when she tossed the
contents of her brother's pocket into the fireplace.
"There is enough dynamite in a cartridge to make a sharp detonation but
not enough to do any damage, unless, as happened here, there were two
of them in a small space that was enclosed on three sides--"
"The trash was blown out on the floor of the room," interrupted Mr.
Schuler.
"--by walls that were none too strong. With a wind such as last
night's knocking down the chimney at the top and bricks setting
dynamite cartridges into action below I only wonder that the old thing
is standing at all this morning."
They gazed at it as if they expected the whole affair to fall before
their eyes.
"I'll call up the brickmason and find out when he can come to examine
it; he may have to rebuild the entire chimney."
Mr. Emerson was moving toward the hall where the telephone was when his
eye fell on Elisabeth sitting contentedly on the floor close to the
wall turning over and over something that gleamed.
"What have you got there, small blessing?" he asked, stooping to make
sure that she was not intending to try the taste of whatever it might
be.
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