“I hope you are well and enjoying yourself and that all the other girls are well too. We are having a splendid time here but we have to study as hard as we did at home. There is something that I want you to do for me and you must never tell any one that I mentioned it to you for it is something very mysterious and important. You know about Bruce Decker, the young fireman who was in the hospital. I have often talked to you about him. Well, Papa has made me promise not to write to him and I dare not disobey him, but I did not promise that you would not write to him, and something has happened which he ought to know. I want you to write him a letter and send it to the address on the scrap of paper enclosed. Tell him that Mr. Dexter and Papa are great friends now and he comes to see us every day. This morning I was alone when he called and he sat down and we had a long talk. I told him what Bruce told me about the Dexter house (just write it that way and he will know what I mean), and he was very much interested in what I said and got up and walked up and down the room talking to himself but I could not hear a word he said. Then he asked me for Bruce’s address and I copied it out and gave it to him right before Papa and Aunt Sarah and Harry who had all come into the room, and Harry’s wild to know what was on the paper I gave him. Now Kitty you must do exactly what I tell you. Bruce will know who you are because he has heard me talk about you and I’m sure he’s just dying to know you. But remember it is important that he should get this message right away and nobody must know anything about it. If he makes any answer to your note write to me at once. No more at present, from
Your loving friend
Laura Van Kuren.”
Chapter XXVIII.
Now the interest which old Mr. Dexter had betrayed while listening to Laura’s story was in reality as nothing compared with that which he felt, and when he reached his home that afternoon he seated himself by the fire and fell into a condition of deep thought.
Mr. Van Kuren who called on him that evening found him in his parlor busy with a number of old letters, papers and photographs which were spread out on the table before him.
“You see,” he said as he rose to greet his guest, “that even here in Paris, with enough to render most men contented, my thoughts go back to my old friends and home in America. I don’t know whether I shall ever return or not; but of late I have been thinking seriously of running over to New York for a week or two to settle a little matter of business that has been worrying me for a short time past.”
Mr. Dexter did not explain that the “short time past” meant only about eight hours nor did he, of course, say what the matter was that troubled him but his guest divined that it might be some family affair and asked him if that were not the case.
“Well yes,” rejoined Mr. Dexter, “it is a family matter, and one that I cannot settle very well by mail, though I might write my nephew and ask him to attend to it for me.”
“Your nephew?” exclaimed Mr. Van Kuren, “why I was not aware that you were even on speaking terms with him, and for my part I would not blame you if you never have anything more to say to him.”