"Something like _me_?" said Frank.

A gleam of intelligence shot across the boy's face as he stopped and caught his brother by the sleeve, saying earnestly:

"It wasn't _you_, Frank, _was_ it?"

"It was, Willie, and right glad am I to have been in such good luck as to save Miss Auberly."

Willie grasped his brother's hand and shook it heartily.

"You're a brick, Blazes," said he, "and this is your birthday, an' I wish you luck an' long life, my boy. You'll do me credit yet, if you go on as you've begun. Now, I'll go right away back an' tell mother.

Won't she be fit to bu'st?"

"But what about your message to the relation in the City?" inquired Frank.

"That relation is yourself, and here's the message, in the shape of a pair o' socks from mother; knitted with her own hands; and, by the way, that reminds me--how came you to be at the fire last night? It's a long way from your station."

"I've been changed recently," said Frank; "poor Grove was badly hurt about the loins at a fire in New Bond Street last week, and I have been sent to take his place, so I'm at the King Street station now. But I have something more to tell you before you go, lad, so walk with me a bit farther."

Willie consented, and Frank related to him his conversation with Mr Auberly in reference to himself.

"I thought of asking leave and running out this afternoon to tell you, so it's as well we have met, as it will--Why, what are _you_ chuckling at, Willie?"

This question was put in consequence of the boy's eyes twinkling and his cheeks reddening with suppressed merriment.

"Never mind, Blazes. I haven't time to tell you just now. I'll tell you some other time. So old Auberly wants to see me to-morrow forenoon?"

"That's what he said to me," returned Frank.

"Very good; I'll go. Adoo, Blazes--farewell."

So saying, Willie Willders turned round and went off at a run, chuckling violently. He attempted to whistle once or twice, but his mouth refused to retain the necessary formation, so he contented himself with chuckling instead. And it is worthy of record that that small boy was so much engrossed with his own thoughts on this particular occasion that he did not make one observation, bad, good, or indifferent, to any one during his walk home. He even received a question from a boy smaller than himself as to whether "his mother knew he was out," without making any reply, and pa.s.sed innumerable policemen without even a thought of vengeance!

"Let me see," said he, muttering to himself as he paused beside the Marble Arch at Hyde Park, and leaned his head against the railings of that structure; "Mr Auberly has been an' ordered two boys to be sent to him to-morrow forenoon--ha! he! sk!" (the chuckling got the better of him here)--"very good. An' my mother has ordered one o' the boys to go, while a tall fireman has ordered the other. Now, the question is, which o' the two boys am I--the _one_ or the _t'other_--ha! sk! ho! Well, of course, _both_ o' the boys will go; they can't help it, there's no gittin' over that; but, then, which of 'em will git the situation?

There's a scruncher for you, Mr Auberly. You'll have to fill your house with tar an' turpentine an' set fire to it over again 'afore you'll throw light on _that_ pint. S'pose I should go in for _both_ situations! It _might_ be managed. The first boy could take a well-paid situation as a clerk, an the second boy might go in for night-watchman at a bank." (Chuckling again interrupted the flow of thought.) "P'raps the two situations might be got in the same place o'

business; that would be handy! Oh! if one o' the boys could only be a girl, _what_ a lark that would--sk! ha! ha!"

He was interrupted at this point by a shoe-black, who remarked to his companion:

"I say, Bob, 'ere's a lark. 'Ere's a feller bin an got out o' Bedlam, a larfin' at nothink fit to burst hisself!"

So Willie resumed his walk with a chuckle that fully confirmed the member of the black brigade in his opinion.

He went home chuckling and went to bed chuckling, without informing his mother of the cause of his mirth. Chuckling he arose on the following morning, and, chuckling still, went at noon to Beverly Square, where he discovered Mr Auberly standing, gaunt and forlorn, in the midst of the ruins of his once elegant mansion.

CHAPTER SIX.

"WHEN ONE IS ANOTHER WHO IS WHICH?"

"Well, boy, what do you want? Have you anything to say to me?"

Mr Auberly turned sharp round on Willie, whose gaze had gone beyond the length of simple curiosity. In fact, he was awe-struck at the sight of such a very tall and very dignified man standing so grimly in the midst of such dreadful devastation.

"Please, sir, I was sent to you, sir, by--"

"Oh, you're the boy, the son of--that is to say, you were sent to me by your mother," said Mr Auberly with a frown.

"Well, sir," replied Willie, hesitating, "I--I--was sent by--by--"

"Ah, I see," interrupted Mr Auberly with a smile that was meant to be gracious, "you were sent by a fireman; you are not the--the--I mean you're the _other_ boy."

Poor Willie, being of a powerfully risible nature, found it hard to contain himself on hearing his own words of the previous evening re-echoed thus unexpectedly. His face became red, and he took refuge in blowing his nose, during which process--having observed the smile on Mr Auberly's face--he resolved to be "the other boy."

"Yes, sir," he said, looking up modestly, "I was sent by a fireman; I _am_ the other boy."

Mr Auberly smiled again grimly, and said that the fireman was a brave fellow, and that he had saved his daughter's life, and that he was very glad to do anything that lay in his power for him, and that he understood that Willie was the fireman's brother; to which the boy replied that he was.

"Well, then, come this way," continued Mr Auberly, leading Willie into the library of the adjoining house, which his friend had put at his disposal, and seating himself at a writing-table. "You want a situation of some sort--a clerkship, I suppose?"

Willie admitted that his ambition soared to that tremendous height.

"Let me see," muttered Mr Auberly, taking up a pen and beginning to write; "yes, she will be able to help me. What is your name, boy?"

"Willie, sir."

"Just so, William; and your surname--your other name?"

"Willders, sir."

Mr Auberly started, and looked Willie full in the eyes. Willie, feeling that he was playing a sort of double part without being able to avoid it, grew red in the face.

"What did you say, boy?"

"Willders," replied Willie stoutly.

"Then you're _not_ the other boy," said Mr Auberly, laying down his pen, and regarding Willie with a frown.

"Please, sir," replied Willie, with a look of meekness which was mingled with a feeling of desperation, for his desire to laugh was strong upon him, "please, sir, I don't rightly know _which_ boy I am."

Mr Auberly paused for a moment.

"Boy, you're a fool!"

"Thank 'ee, sir," said Willie.

This reply went a long way in Mr Auberly's mind to prove the truth of his a.s.sertion.

"Answer me, boy," said Mr Auberly with an impressive look and tone; "were you sent here by a fireman?"