“It must be hot—­” said Tavia.

She turned and at that very moment a strange flash shot up to the ceiling!

An explosion!  Then such a blinding flame!

With the child still in her arms Tavia made a dash for the door.  Frantically she pulled at it but it would not open!  The child screamed piteously.

“Help!  Help!” shouted Tavia, clutching at the knob with one hand, while she clung to the child with the other.

Instantly Dorothy was on her feet and down at that little door.

“Open it!” she screamed, for the smell of smoke had reached her on the outside.

Without waiting for an answer, or for those at hand to act, Dorothy jumped to a seat and grasped the bell rope.

At that moment the door gave in to Tavia’s pulling, and she fell headlong out into the aisle with the baby in her arms.

The train stopped, and brakemen were now running through the cars in search of the trouble.  Passengers had broken the tool boxes and were fighting the spreading flames with hand grenades and portable extinguishers.  Fainting women called for attention—­among these being Lily’s mother.

Tavia was now lifted to a seat, and Dorothy had called into her ears that the baby was safe—­she was not even scratched!

But Tavia was not so fortunate, for an ugly red mark showed where the tongue of fire scorched her, and her hair—­

One side was entirely burned off!

Dorothy’s heart sank as she noticed the loss, but it was nothing, of course, compared to what might have happened to the baby.

The excitement in the rear of the car had, by this time subsided somewhat, showing that the flames were extinguished.  Lily, safe and uninjured, sat in her mother’s lap—­no danger of her getting away again evidently.

Among the passengers was a doctor who offered his services to Tavia.  The burns were slight, he declared but there was danger of shock, and the loss of her beautiful hair was to be regretted.

Tavia tried to laugh to assure Dorothy she was all right, and then she insisted upon talking about the accident.

“The lamp did not explode,” she declared.  “The fire came from the other end of the room.”

The trainmen listened anxiously to this report.  They were obliged to make a most careful investigation, and Tavia was very willing to help them.  Professional looking men crowded around—­one who introduced himself to the doctor as a well known lawyer of Rochester called Dorothy aside and offered to look out for the interests of the injured girl.

“Whatever you think best,” Dorothy said, “I have never had any experience with law.  But if you think we should take account of it at all I should be most grateful for your help.”

Then Tavia was taken into a private compartment, and there, with Dorothy encouraging her, and the lawyer and doctor listening, she told the story of the accident.