And so the year that the Van Kuren children spent abroad was not without its effect upon them. During that time they had travelled through England, France, Italy and Germany, and, under the guidance of their father and their tutor, had learned much of the countries through which they passed, and of the history and customs of the different people. With minds naturally bright and retentive, both Harry and Laura had derived much more profit from their journeyings in foreign lands than most people do, and although they had seen so much and enjoyed so many things, they were both heartily glad to return to their own country.
It was on a bright, sunny morning in the early winter that the steamer in which Mr. Van Kuren had taken passage for himself and family, sailed up the superb harbor of New York, while the two children stood on the deck, almost screaming with delight as they recognized such familiar landmarks as the Brooklyn Bridge, Trinity steeple, the Produce Exchange, and even caught a distant glimpse of the Palisades. A tall column of smoke rising from the heart of the great city caught their eye.
“What makes that smoke?” said Harry, to his tutor who was standing beside him.
“I don’t know,” replied Mr. Reed, doubtfully, “But I think it must be a fire. Yes, the smoke is growing denser every moment and now we can see bits of flame in it too.”
“I wonder if Bruce Decker is there, helping to put it out,” exclaimed Harry, impulsively. “I tell you it must be grand to be running to the fires all the time. I wonder how Bruce is getting along, anyway. Don’t you think it’s funny we haven’t heard a word from him?”
Laura did not reply at first but seemed to be interested only in looking intently at the familiar features of the scene about her, but when Harry repeated his question she remarked carelessly, “Oh I suppose he’s too much occupied with his own affairs to bother about us. Anyway, Harry, it is not necessary for us to see him any more. He is very well in his way, but not nearly so refined and elegant in his manners as those children we used to play with in Paris. Just compare him with little Victor Dufait for example. Why Victor was the politest boy I ever saw in my life, and it would be a good thing for Bruce, and you too, to copy his manners.”