"I am usually at the engine-house on Ludlow street--Engine Company No. 17. Driver, you see; and our splendid horses--oh, but you ought to see how they love me," enthusiastically; then pulling himself up with a jerk; "but, pray don't trouble to return the money. It will be better for me to call, will it not, and return your ring?" She assented, and gave him her address; then he found her a seat, and as their boat plowed swiftly through the frothing waves, they fell into a pleasant chat, during which he said, courteously: "I saw you come on board with Standish, the actor. Are you a member of his company?" "Not yet; but I hope to be one soon. I'm only a salesgirl at O'Neill's now, but Mr. Standish has promised to help me to become an actress." She read distinct disapproval in his dark-blue eyes as he said: "But you will have to study a long while before you can make your debut." "No, for I've already studied a great deal, and acted several parts in the amateur dramatic company to which I belong. Mr. Standish says I can go right on as soon as I secure a position." "Perhaps you will regret it if you go on the stage," he observed, abruptly. "Oh, no; for it is the dream of my life!" smiled Geraldine. "Will your friends permit it?" "I'm only an orphan girl, earning her own living, so I don't need to ask any one's leave. And I'm glad of that, for I'm ambitious, and want to rise in life. I'm tired of being the slave of the public at a dry-goods counter," cried Geraldine, with sparkling eyes. He gazed at her admiringly, but he did not hesitate to say: "It is only an exchange of slavery from the counter to the stage. You will be the slave of the public still. If you would listen to me, I would persuade you to remain where you are--until some good man marries you, and makes you the queen of his heart and home." Geraldine tossed her shining head, and gave him a saucy smile, and retorted: "That sounds like my chum's preaching, but I shall not listen to either of you. My heart is set on a stage career." Harry Hawthorne gave her a grave look, but made no reply in words, and for a few moments they kept silence, while the gay, lilting music of the band filled up the pauses, and the sun pierced through the fog and smiled on the majestic steamer plowing her way through the blue, sparkling waves. Geraldine felt intuitively that he disapproved of her plans, and maintained a pouting silence until he remarked, genially: "I have an idea!" She looked at him, questioningly, and he continued: "The wife of our captain is on board to-day, going to Newburgh. Now, wouldn't it be pleasant to introduce you, so that she could look after you while I'm taking part in the firemen's games?" Geraldine felt as if he were tired of her already, and eager to put her in charge of some one else, and her heart sank with a strange pain, but she did not permit him to see her mortification, she only gave an eager, smiling assent.