“I’d like to know what’s come over that boy lately,” said Tom Brophy,
one morning, as he pointed to Bruce, who was standing idly by the wall
with his broom in his hand gazing vacantly into space instead of
attending to his work.
“I don’t know,” rejoined Weyman, “but my opinion is that he’s in love.
When he first came here, he was as active and steady a lad as one would
expect to see, but within a fortnight or so he has changed tremendously.
You see he got acquainted with a young chap up town, and he’s been up
there two or three times to visit him. This other boy’s father is well
fixed, and the first time Bruce went up there he came back crazy over
the big house and the servants and horses and all the rest of it. He’ll
make a big mistake if he tries to fly too high.”
“Well, all I’ve got to say is this,” observed Brophy, “that if he don’t
mind his eye he’ll have the chief jumping on him some day with both
feet, and when the chief jumps on a man he’s liable to know it.”
Both Weyman and Brophy were right in regard to the young boy. He had
altered materially since his acquaintance with Harry and Laura Van
Kuren. It had made him dissatisfied to see children of his own age
living in the style that he had never dreamt of before, and he could not
help asking himself why it was that he, Bruce Decker, should be obliged
to look after horses, and run errands for the chief of a fire battalion
while Harry, who was neither better nor cleverer than he was, had a pony
of his own to ride, wore good clothes every day, and in short, lived
upon the very fat of the land; and this problem, which he put to himself
very often now, always led him to speculate as to his own origin, and to
wonder whether Laura could be right in her belief that he was being
unjustly kept out of innumerable good things that rightfully belonged to
him.
Charley Weyman, who was a close observer and took a deep interest in the
son of his old friend, was right in his surmise that Bruce was in love,
although the boy himself would have been very much surprised if he had
been told of it. Never in all his life had he met any girl as pretty, as
well-bred and as charming as Laura Van Kuren. She seemed to him to have
no fault, except perhaps her habit of quarreling with her brother, but
that was an occurrence of such frequency that Bruce had become
accustomed to it and was no longer surprised when the two children fell
out. He had noticed, too, that they never “stayed mad” with one another,
to use an expressive phrase in vogue among children, and although he had
once seen Laura so far forget the ethics of society as to hurl a half a
brick at her brother’s head, he noticed that within five minutes
afterward they were playing together as happily as if nothing had
happened. And then what boy could resist a girl who took as deep an
interest in him as Laura did in the young fireman?
Why, she even took a much deeper interest in solving what she called,
quoting from one of her favorite romances “the mystery that shrouded his
birth” than he did himself, and if it had not been for her active
co-operation and sympathy he was sure that the incident of the old
doorway of the Dexter mansion would have passed from his mind without
his making any effort to learn its significance.
Moreover, the novelty of life in the great city was beginning to wear
off, and he could not deny that his work at quarters was becoming a
trifle irksome to him. It was always the same thing, rubbing down the
horses, cleaning out their stalls, waiting in the building while the men
were away and now and then doing an errand for Chief Trask or Charley
Weyman. He had not even been allowed to go to a fire since the important
day when he drove the truck down to the tenement house region and beheld
for the first time the tall man with the black beard and the scarred
face.
He was thinking of all these things and some others besides as he stood
leaning against the wall with his broom in his hand, and as he resumed
his work with a discontented sigh, he determined to take the first
opportunity to go up town and ask Mr. Dexter about the man with whom he
had seen him driving. He had to wait nearly a week before he could get
an afternoon off, and a very long week it seemed to him, too. Finally,
one bright afternoon saw him speeding northward on the elevated
railroad, his face bright at the prospect of seeing Laura and his heart
beating with excitement as he thought of the interview which he had
planned.
He had determined to go at first to the Van Kuren’s, because Laura had
charged him so solemnly not to do anything in the matter without first
consulting her, that he felt that it would be absolute treachery on his
part to ask the all-important question unless he had first obtained her
permission.
Descending the steps of the elevated station, he started at a brisk walk
in the direction of his friend’s house, and what was his surprise and
delight on turning the first corner to find himself face to face with
both children who, accompanied by Mr. Reed, the tutor, were just
starting for a long walk. They hailed him with boisterous delight and
Bruce, having first bowed with much deference to Mr. Reed, of whom he
stood in considerable awe, shook hands with both Laura and Harry and
told them that he was just on his way to call on them.
“We are just going out for a walk Master Decker,” said Mr. Reed, “and we
would be very glad to have you accompany us.” Mr. Reed would not have
invited any of the boys in the neighborhood to go with them, but he had
been struck with the respectful manner in which Bruce had lifted his cap
to him. Then they all set off together, Bruce and Harry marching ahead,
while the tutor brought up in the rear with Laura.
“Which way shall we go to-day?” said Harry, turning to the tutor, and at
the same moment Bruce contrived to throw a significant glance at Laura,
a glance which the young girl comprehended at once and which prompted
her to exclaim “Oh, let’s follow this road along to where we were the
other day, Harry, there’s a place there with lots of lovely flowers and
there’s one tree that I don’t know the name of and I want to ask Mr.
Reed what it is.”
“Very well,” rejoined the tutor pleasantly, “we’ll go where you say,
Miss Laura,” and Bruce chuckled to himself, as he noticed how the
quick-witted girl’s tact served his purpose.
They had not gone far before he contrived to fall behind the others with
her for a moment, and whisper: “That’s just what I wanted; I came up
here to go and see that Mr. Dexter, but I wouldn’t go until I had told
you about it first; I’m going to ask him who that man is he was driving
with the other day.”
Laura gave him a quick look which expressed her gratitude, and then
said: “Be careful not to let Mr. Reed know that we ever talked about
this Mr. Dexter before, because it would be awful if papa were to find
out that we went as far through the gateway as we did that afternoon.
When we get there, just tell him that you have an errand with an old
gentleman who lives in the house, and we’ll walk along slowly while
you’re inside. That’s the best way.”
That ended their conversation and a moment later Bruce and Harry had
leaped the fence into an adjoining field, and were down on their knees
in the grass hunting for mushrooms. Neither the tutor nor either of the
children could distinguish the edible mushrooms from toadstools and
other fungi, but Bruce, who had often gathered them near his country
home, readily pointed out the difference in appearance and smell between
the two. Mr. Reed seemed very much pleased with what the boy told him;
for although he was thoroughly well versed in books and a most
accomplished classical scholar and instructor, there were a great many
things concerning everyday life of which he was ignorant, and it was
plain to both of his young pupils that Bruce was rising rapidly in the
tutor’s esteem. It was not long before they had gathered what the young
country boy called “a good mess” of edible fungi, and when he had
solemnly certified to the fact that there was not a toadstool in the
whole lot, they were wrapped up in a bit of old newspaper and carefully
hidden away in a cool, damp spot beside the very brook into which Harry
had fallen the week before.
[Illustration: Bruce delivers a lecture on botany.—_Page 122_.]
“We’ll stop and get them on our return,” said the tutor, “and I shall
tell Mr. Van Kuren when they are served at dinner to-night that it was
you who showed us how to distinguish them.”
They were drawing nearer the Dexter mansion as he said this, and Bruce
took occasion to say to the tutor “By the way, I have a little errand
here and if you’ve no objection I would like to stop a few minutes.
There is an old gentlemen who sometimes sends magazines and books down
to our quarters for the men to read, and I must see him for a moment.”
“Certainly,” replied the tutor “where does he live?”
“In the next house—that one with the big hedge in front of it,” replied
the boy.
Mr. Reed stopped short, and the smile disappeared from his face and was
replaced by a queer look of annoyance and anxiety.
“Do you mean Mr. Dexter,” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Reed looked at his watch, and then said quietly: “It’s rather later
than I thought it was, so I think we will return to the house. We shall
walk slowly, so you may overtake us if your visit is not too long,
Master Decker.”
Bruce and Laura exchanged glances but did not dispute Mr. Reed’s order,
and then, while the others turned their faces toward their home, Bruce
darted through the gateway, and sped along the winding path through the
fir trees.
Ten minutes later, Laura, who had exhausted her ingenuity in devising
excuses for delaying their return, heard with delight Bruce’s familiar
voice behind them, and stopped to wait for him. As he approached she saw
that his face, which had been so bright and smiling all the afternoon,
was sober and pale now, and the thought flashed across her mind that
perhaps he had encountered the ghost of one of his relatives in the old
house, some long-veiled woman flitting up and down the old staircase as
spirits always did in the romances with which she was familiar.
“Well?” she said, as Bruce joined her.
“I was just too late,” said the boy with something like a sob in his
voice, “Mr. Dexter sailed for Europe yesterday, and there’s nobody there
but an old couple who are taking care of the house. They don’t know when
he will be back or anything about it. There goes my last and only
chance.”