"Isn't he perfectly magnif'?"
"Who is he, Cissy? A Fifth avenue millionaire?"
"Oh, no, indeed, girls; don't lose your wits! He's a fireman at the Ludlow street engine-house, that's all."
"Oh, then he must be a prince in disguise; and, come to think of it, millionaires are not usually good-looking, any way. I might have known he was poor, from his beauty. He was talking to you about Jerry Harding, wasn't he? Is she his sweetheart?"
"Perhaps so. Don't bother me! I don't know," laughed Cissy, cutting short their merry chatter.
Meanwhile the object of their admiration hurried away and returned to the hospital.
He had no trouble in finding the messenger-boy who had taken his note to Geraldine, and the youth, unconscious of having done wrong, very readily admitted that he had given the note to a gentleman, who said he was going in, and had offered to hand the letter to the lady.
"No harm done, I hope, sir?" he said, regretfully.
"Yes, more harm than you know. The man kept the letter, so the young lady never received it. It was something very important, too; and now she has gone away, and the mischief you did can never be undone."