Presently the conductor made his rounds.
First he presented his hand for the young girl’s fare. She felt in her pocket, but apparently in vain. Her face flushed, and she looked very much embarrassed.
“I think I forgot to bring my money,” she murmured. “I will get out.”
“By no means,” said Gilbert, promptly. “Permit me to pay your fare. For two,” he said, handing a ten-cent stamp to the conductor.
“You are very kind,” said the young girl, looking relieved. “I live in Forty-eighth Street, and should not have liked to walk so far. I am sure I can’t tell how I happened to forget my money; I am ever so much obliged to you.”
“Oh, don’t mention it,” said Gilbert, privately thinking his new acquaintance one of the prettiest girls he had ever met.
“Will you give me your name and residence,” she asked, “that I may send you the money?”
“With pleasure, on condition that you won’t think of repaying such a trifle,” said Gilbert.
He drew out a card, added his guardian’s residence, and passed it to his companion.
“At any rate,” said the young girl, “you must call, and let mamma thank you for your politeness to me. This is mine.”