For fully a fortnight after his strange experience in the upper part of the city, Bruce heard nothing from Harry Van Kuren, the boy whom he had picked up by the roadside and conveyed home. He had hoped, at first, that their chance acquaintance might develop into a permanent friendship, for since his arrival in the city he had associated entirely with the men in the fire company and, boy like, he was beginning to pine for the companionship of lads of his own age. Two or three times he had thought of writing a note to Harry to ask him how his foot was getting along, but he had hesitated, for fear he should be looked upon as endeavoring to intrude upon a boy whose condition in life was, he could not help feeling, very much better than his own. So Bruce, who was an independent, self-respecting lad, determined to let the other make the first advance, if he desired to continue the acquaintance. One morning, however, about a fortnight after the first meeting of the two boys, Bruce was surprised and delighted to see Harry march into the quarters and come straight up to where he was sitting. “I suppose you thought I was never coming down here to see you,” said the visitor as he shook Bruce heartily by the hand, “but the fact is when my father got home that night and found that I had been out without his leave, he put me on bounds for two weeks and said if he caught me going out without permission he would lock me up in the house. I was going to write to you, but writing is an awful bother, so I thought I’d wait until I got off the limit and then come down here and make you a call.” Bruce was heartily glad to see his visitor, and frankly told him so, mentioning also the fact that he had almost given up hope of hearing from him again. “Oh I never forget my friends,” said Harry “and here’s a letter from my father inviting you come up and spend the afternoon with us to-day.” With these words he produced from the inside pocket of his jacket a polite and formal letter addressed to Bruce Decker, Esq., and signed “Horace Van Kuren,” in which the writer hoped that Mr. Decker would honor him with his company at dinner that evening, in order that he might thank him for the kindness shown to his son some time before. Bruce felt staggered at the idea of dining in that great, beautiful house, and at first did not know what reply to make; then he bethought him of Charley Weyman and accordingly went up stairs and submitted the letter to him. The latter read it carefully and then said: “You had better go by all means, it’s a good chance for you to get acquainted with those people and they can’t do you any harm.” “But” said the boy in a diffident, hesitating way, “I’m almost afraid to go up there because I haven’t got any clothes nice enough. This is the best suit I’ve got, and that boy Harry is togged out in beautiful things, and I feel ashamed to go along with him, because of the contrast between us.”