Be this as it may, a note was quickly written to her brother, Thomas Tippet, Esquire, which was delivered to Willie, with orders to take it the following evening to London Bridge, in the neighbourhood of which Mr Tippet dwelt and carried on his business. CHAPTER EIGHT. A HIDDEN FIRE. In the afternoon of the following day Willie set off to the City in quest of Mr Thomas Tippet. Having to pass the King Street fire station, he resolved to look in on his brother. The folding-doors of the engine-house were wide open, and the engine itself, clean and business-like, with its brass-work polished bright, stood ready for instant action. Two of the firemen were conversing at the open door, while several others could be seen lounging about inside. In one of the former Willie recognised the strong man who had collared him on a well-remembered occasion. "Please, sir," said Willie, going up to him, "is Frank Willders inside?" "Why, youngster," said Dale, laying his hand on Willie's head, "ain't you the boy that pulled our bell for a lark the other night?" "Yes, sir, I am; but you let me off, you know, so I hope you won't bear me ill-will _now_." "That depends on how you behave in future," said Dale with a laugh; "but what d'you want with Frank Willders?" "I want to see him. He's my brother." "Oh, indeed! You'll find him inside." Willie entered the place with feelings of interest, for his respect for firemen had increased greatly since he had witnessed their recent doings at the Beverly Square fire. He found his brother writing at the little desk that stood in the window, while five or six of his comrades were chatting by the fire, and a group in a corner were playing draughts, and spinning yarns of their old experiences. All assisted in loading the air with tobacco-smoke. The round cloth caps worn by the men gave them a much more sailor-like and much less fireman-like appearance than the helmets, which, with their respective hatchets, hung on the walls, rendering the apartment somewhat like a cavalry guard-room. This change in the head-piece, and the removal of the hatchet, was the only alteration in their costume in what may be styled "times of peace." In other respects they were at all times accoutred, and in readiness to commence instant battle with the flames. "Hallo, Blazes! how are ye?" said Willie, touching his brother on the shoulder. "That you, Willie?" said Frank, without looking up from his work. "Where away now?" "Come to tell ye there's a _fire_," said Willie, with a serious look. "Eh? what d'ye mean?" asked Frank, looking at his brother, as if he half believed he was in earnest. "I mean what I say--a fire here," said Willie, solemnly striking his breast with his clenched fist, "here in Heart Street, Buzzum Square, ragin' like fury, and all the ingins o' the fire brigade, includin' the float, couldn't put it out, no, nor even so much as squeanch it!"