“Yes, it would serve his purpose very well to get you out of the way for two or three months and then levy blackmail on your grandfather. But thank Heaven there is time to put a stop to that.”
“Hey, boss,” said a piping voice, and Bruce turned round to find Skinny the Swiper standing beside him with his face and clothes as grimy as if he had been working all night at a fire. He was panting with the exertion of a swift run, and as soon as he could regain his breath he said, “I was up ter dat hotel fire last night, an’ dat Scar-faced Charley got burnt up. Dey jest dragged him outter de ashes an’ I seen his body.”
“What, dead!” exclaimed Bruce, and then turning to Mr. Van Kuren he said, “that man who wanted me to go to England was burnt up in the big fire last night. I never knew that he lived in that hotel.”
“He probably went there when his uncle turned him out of doors,” explained Mr. Van Kuren, and then added, “Well, he is dead now and it is best to let his faults be buried with him. We will go up now and see your grandfather.”
The meeting between the fine old gentleman and his newly found grandson was an affecting one. Mr. Dexter’s eyes brightened and his cheeks flushed when he heard of Bruce’s bravery at the fire, and it was with no small pride that he introduced the boy to his friends and the members of his household as his grandson, the son of his dearly beloved son, Frank.
“And now, my boy,” said the old gentleman, after they had had a long and affectionate talk together, “if you will go into the drawing-room you will find someone there, I think, who wishes to see you.”
Bruce did as he was desired, and as he entered the room a young girl rose from her seat by the window and came towards him holding out both hands. “Can you ever forgive me, Bruce, for the way I treated you that day?”
Those who have followed the fortunes of the young fire lad as described in this book do not need to be told that there was no room in his magnanimous heart for any feeling of resentment toward the young girl who stood before him now. Nor is it necessary to say that the whole of the Van Kuren family received Bruce with every manifestation of gratitude and with assurances that henceforth he was to consider himself as one of their own flesh and blood. But in his new sphere, as the grandson and heir of the aristocratic and kindly old gentleman whose name he was now to bear, Bruce did not forget the friends who had been kind to him during his days of service at the Hook and Ladder quarters. And one of the first things that he did after he had been installed in the big house near the Harlem River was to send substantial tokens of his regard to Chief Trask, Charley Weyman, Tom Brophy and Mr. Dewsnap.
Nor was Skinny the Swiper forgotten. And when the little newsboy started for the Wolcott homestead dressed in a neat new suit of clothes and wearing, for perhaps the first time in his life, a new and fashionable hat, very few of those who had associated with him in New York would have recognized him.
“Well,” remarked Chief Trask to Tom Brophy as the two sat together at the quarters, “the boy deserves all his good luck, but you mark my words, you’ll see him back in the department again before he’s a year older. He’s just like his father, a fireman born and bred.”