Meantime things had not been going on smoothly at the home of the Van Kuren children. Mr. Van Kuren, although a devoted and careful father, was so much engrossed in his business that he had comparatively little time to devote to his children, and since the death of their mother, their education had necessarily been left largely in the hands of tutors, governesses and instructors of all sorts. The discovery that the young boy from the fire department whom he had been inclined to regard with so much favor had taken advantage of his intimacy with the children to conduct a clandestine correspondence with the daughter of the house, annoyed Mr. Van Kuren excessively, and he determined to take immediate steps to prevent any repetition of the offense or continuance of the friendship. It was chiefly for this purpose that he finally made up his mind to do what he had long contemplated, and one morning he summoned both children to his study, and threw them into a fever of excitement and delight by bidding them prepare at once for a trip to Europe. “But must we start to-morrow?” demanded Laura. “Why, I never can get ready in the world.” “Very well,” replied her father with a smile. “If you’re not ready, you may remain at home while Harry, your aunt, Mr. Reed and I will take the trip. Shall I send word to the steamship office that we only need tickets for four?” “No, no, no,” cried Laura, jumping up and down excitedly, “don’t do that. I’ll go right away now and get ready. I’d die if I had to stay home while you and Harry went off.” Then both children set about the work of packing up their things and of writing one or two good-bye letters to the friends whom they where leaving behind. “Did papa say how long we were to remain away?” asked Laura as she paused in the middle of a letter. “No,” answered her brother carelessly, “but probably quite a while. I don’t care how long we stay. It will be lots of fun over there, and ever so much better than learning stupid lessons and staying in one place all the time. I guess I’ll write a letter to Bruce and tell him that we’re going to Europe to-morrow. I won’t say anything about papa getting hold of that letter, and when we come back maybe we’ll be allowed to ask him up here again.” So Bruce learned the next day, at the very moment when the steamer was leaving her dock, that his friends had sailed away across the ocean and did not know when they would see him again. Europe seemed so far away to the young boy, and a trip across the ocean such a formidable undertaking, that it seemed to him that he had said good-bye to them forever, and that if they did come back at all, they would never be the same.