Belinda of the Red Cross

by Robert W. Hamilton

"Miss Melnotte!" he gasped.

"Bring your chair here, Mr. Sanderson," she said with perfect composure.

The suggestion relieved a very awkward moment for her. She felt that his greeting might be too warm. But a man with a deck-chair in his arms cannot display over-exuberance of feeling upon greeting an acquaintance. And then—Belinda was so perfectly self-possessed.

"Why, I had no idea you were aboard, Miss Melnotte! Er—are you traveling alone?" was Sanderson's first query, when he had placed his chair beside her.

"My aunt is crossing with me," she said. "But I am not so surprised to see you."

"No?"

"I fancied you had it in your mind to join your comrades already in France."

"And you?"

She told him of her sudden decision. He beamed upon her.

"That's bully!" he cried. "The Red Cross is doing all kinds of good work. I honor you nursing recruits, especially when so many of you do not favor war."