She looked about her despairingly for a friendly face among all those strangers. Her tearful eyes encountered the gaze of a fireman who had been covertly watching her ever since she came on board. He was a magnificent specimen of athletic young manhood, his fine straight figure setting off to advantage his resplendent uniform of dark-blue, with fawn-colored facings and gilt buttons. His face was bold, handsome, and winning, with a straight nose, laughing dark-blue eyes, a dark, curling mustache, while beneath his blue cap clustered beautiful blue-black curls, fine and glossy as a woman's hair. When Geraldine's appealing eyes met the admiring gaze of this young man it paused and lingered as if held by some irresistible attraction, and, advancing to her, he lifted his blue cap courteously from his handsome head, saying, kindly: "You seem to be in trouble, miss. Can I help you?" Thus encouraged by his kind look and tone, the girl faltered out her distressing plight: "My escort went back on shore to speak to a friend, and was left behind. And I--I--don't know anybody--and have no ticket--and no money with me!" Poor, troubled baby! How charming she was with those crimson cheeks and wet eyes, and that tremulous quiver in her low voice! The handsome fireman's heart went out to her so strongly that he longed to take her in his arms like a child, and kiss away her pearly tears. But of course, he didn't obey that strong impulse. He only said, cordially: "Don't let that little trifle worry you, miss. You must permit me to buy you a ticket, and to take care of you to-day, like a brother. Will you?" How glad Geraldine was to find such a kind friend. Her heart began to rebound from its depression, and she exclaimed, gratefully: "Oh, how can I thank you enough? I felt so frightened, so like a lost child, till you spoke to me! Yes, I shall be very grateful if you will buy me a ticket. I'll pay you when we get back to New York. And--and--till then, please keep this!" She held out to him her sole ornament, a pretty little ring, and insisted, against all his entreaties, that he should hold it in pawn for her debt. "You oughtn't to trust your engagement-ring to another fellow," he said, lightly, as he slipped it over his little finger. Geraldine blushed brightly as she answered to this daring challenge: "Oh, it's not my engagement-ring at all. I'm not engaged." "I'm very glad to hear it," he replied, meaningly, then proffered her his card, on which she read, in a clear, bold chirography, the name: "HARRY HAWTHORNE." Geraldine bowed, and said: "I haven't a card, but my name is Miss Harding--Geraldine Harding. I would like your address, please, so that I may return your money to-morrow."