On a shining morning when the Northeast wind had swept the sky as clean as a Dutch kitchen, Evan was on his way to work, trying to make out to himself with but poor success that all was right with him and with the world. As a matter of fact the loveliness of the morning only put a keener edge on his dissatisfaction. He could not but remember other lovely mornings when the heart had been light in his breast.

Every pretty woman that he met put him in a rage. “All alike! All alike!” he said to himself. “God help the man that takes them at face value! Well, they’ll never get their hooks in me again! I know them now!” It did not occur to him that there was rather an inconsistency in raging at something so perfectly unimportant; nor did he enquire too closely into the motives that led him to search ceaselessly among the feminine passers-by and to turn his head to look down every side street. His search for a certain red-haired individual of the despised sex had become involuntary.

At Thirteenth street he suddenly perceived Anway coming towards him down the avenue, and his heart bounded. Never was a man gladder to stumble on his rival. Luckily Evan saw him first. Hastily turning his back, he stared in a shop window until he judged the other had passed behind him. Then he took up the trail, forgetting his job, and indeed everything else save that Anway must possess the clue to Corinna’s whereabouts.

He was led to the corner of Broadway and Twenty-third street, where Anway stopped, evidently to wait for an eastbound car. This was a little awkward, for the cars bound in that direction were but sparsely filled at this hour. Evan bought a newspaper. Anyway boarded a cross-town car and sat down inside. Evan swung himself on as the car got in motion, and remained out on the back platform, using his paper as a screen.

As the car progressed to the far East side it gradually emptied until only Anway and Evan remained on board. Evan became rather nervous. “Well, if he spots me I’ll follow him anyhow,” he said. “What on earth is he doing on this ragged edge of the town?”

At the end of the line Anway got off the front end of the car without having discovered Evan, and headed down the water-front street to the South. A number of groups of people, having the gala look of those bound on an excursion, were going the same way; and Evan concealed himself among them.

On the river side the new city piers stretched out into the water. Not having been leased yet, all kinds of craft were tied there; canal-boats, lighters, schooners, launches. All the people, including Anway, were heading towards a pier where a queer little old-fashioned steamboat was lying. She had a tall, thin smoke-stack and immense paddle-boxes. She looked like one of those insects with a tiny body and a wholly disproportionate outfit of legs, antennas, etc., spreading around. Her name was painted in fancy letters on the paddle-boxes: Ernestlna.

From the rear Evan saw Anway pass on board. He wondered what the elegant Anway had in common with all the poor and humble people who were bound on the excursion. Many of them obviously did not even possess any Sunday clothes to put on for the trip. There is, surely, no greater degree of poverty. Children were very largely in the majority, pale, great-eyed, little spindle-shanks. All had red tickets in their hands. If, as it seemed, this was a charitable excursion, Anway must be one of those in charge.

As he drew closer Evan saw that the tickets were being collected by a man at the shore end of the gangway. Here was a proper source of information. This man had the pale and earnest look of the professional philanthropist, a worthy soul, some half a dozen years older than Evan, with a wife and four children undoubtedly. Evan took up a place near him and watched the procession wending aboard with brightening faces.

“You couldn’t have a better day for the trip,” he hazarded.

The ticket-taker responded amiably: “Great, isn’t it? We’ll bring ’em back with rosy cheeks.”

“Is this the outfit Anway told me about?” asked Evan, feeling his way.

“Yes, the Ozone Association trips. Are you a friend of Anway’s? He’s just gone aboard.”

“He told me so much about it I thought I’d stroll down and take a look.”

“Go aboard if you’d like to. We won’t be leaving for ten minutes yet.”

Evan desired a little further information before trusting himself aboard. “You must need quite a crowd of helpers to look after the kids.”

“Miss Playfair takes care of that for me. She’s a host in herself.”

All the blood seemed to leave Evan’s heart for a moment, and then came surging back until it seemed as if that much-tried organ would burst. He heard his informant saying:

“But if you know Anway, no doubt you’re acquainted with Miss Playfair?”

“I’ve met her,” said Evan, carefully schooling his voice.

“A wonderful little woman!”

“Quite so,” said Evan dryly. “Look here,” he went on, “I’d like to go with you to-day if I wouldn’t be in the way. I mean, work my passage, of course; help take care of the kids, or amuse them, or feed them, or whatever may be necessary. My name’s Evan Weir.”

The other man looked Evan over and was pleased with what he saw.

“I’d be delighted to have you,” he said. “We can always use more help. My name’s Denton.”

“Well, then, give me a job,” said Evan.

“First of all, take my place for a moment,” said Denton. “The ice-cream hasn’t come. I must go and telephone.”

“Sure thing!”

“You needn’t be too strict about tickets,” Denton added in an undertone. “I mean in respect to women and children. The main thing is to keep the bad and healthy little boys off.”

“I get you,” said Evan.

Denton hurried away. Evan took his place and the procession passed before him deprecatingly presenting its squares of red pasteboard. At first Evan scarcely took note of them, he was so busy with his private exultation. He had found her! And once they got away from the pier he would have her all day on the boat where she couldn’t escape him. His luck had changed. For the present he kept his back turned to the Ernestina that he might not be unduly conspicuous to anyone happening to glance out of the cabin windows.

He was recalled to the business in hand by a plea: “Say, Mister! Let me and me brutter go, will yeh please? We had our tickets all right, but a big lad pasted us and took ’em offen us.”

Evan looked down into a little angel face and clear shining eyes. The “brutter” waited warily in the background. Evan knew boys, and had no doubt but that this was a pair of incorrigibles, but he couldn’t refuse anybody just then.

“What’s your name, boy?”

“Ikey O’Toole.”

“Well, you are out of the melting-pot for sure!”

“No, sir; I live in Hester street.”

“That’s all a stall about losing your tickets,” Evan said, trying to look stern. “But I’ll let you go. I’m going too, see? And if there’s any rough-housing you’ll have me to deal with.”

The surprised and jubilant urchins hurried aboard.

This incident was witnessed with visible indignation by two pale and solemn little girls who stood apart. They knew the bad little boys told a story if the gentleman didn’t. Lost their tickets, indeed! During a lull Evan beckoned them. They came sidling over, each twisting a corner of her pinafore.

“Are you waiting for somebody?” he asked.

A shake of the head.

“Haven’t you got any tickets?”

Another shake.

“Do you want to go anyway?”

An energetic pair of nods.

“What will your mother say?”

“Ain’t got no mutter. Sister, she don’t care. She works all day.”

“All right. Skip on board.”

Denton and the ice-cream arrived simultaneously. Shortly afterwards a warning whistle was blown. A small pandemonium of singing and delighted squealing was heard from the upper deck. Evan stuck close to Denton. They remained on the lower deck while the gangplank was drawn in and the ropes cast off. Meanwhile Evan was gathering what further information he could.

“How often do you make these trips?”

“Twice a week Tuesdays and Saturdays.”

“What is the Ozone Association? I never heard of it.”

“I can’t tell you much, though I work for them. I’ve always understood it was some rich man who wished to keep his name out of the thing. I was hired by a law firm to manage the trips, and the money comes to me through them.”

“How did you get hold of all your helpers?”

“Oh, one way and another. Miss Playfair gets her friends to help.”

When the Ernestina finally moved out into the stream, Denton remained below, attending to the stowage of the ice-cream and to other matters, and Evan stayed with him. To tell the truth, he dreaded a little to put his fortunes to the touch by venturing up above. They were unpacking sandwiches when Denton suddenly said:

“Here’s Anway. Anway, here’s a friend of yours.”

Evan looked up with a wary smile. As it chanced, the busy Denton was called from another direction at that moment, and he did not see the actual meeting between the two. Evan had his back to the light and Anway did not instantly recognise him. Anway’s expression graduated from expectancy at the sound of the word friend to blankness as he failed to recognise Evan, and to something like consternation when he did.

“What are you doing here?” he blurted out.

“The same as yourself,” replied Evan. “Only a volunteer.”

Without another word Anway turned. Evan went with him. He had no intention of letting him warn Corinna. They mounted the main stairway side by side, Anway gazing stiffly ahead, Evan watching him with a grin.

As soon as they rounded into the saloon Evan saw Corinna, and his head swam a little. She was so very dear and desirable he forgot how badly she had used him. She was kneeling on the carpet, feeding a hungry baby with cup and spoon. The baby sat in the lap of a woman so spent and done, she could do no more than keep the infant from slipping off. It was an appealing sight. In such an attitude Corinna was all woman, her face as tender as a saint’s. Evan laid a restraining hand on Anway’s arm.

“Let the kid have his meal anyway,” he whispered.

But some current of electricity warned Corinna. Looking up, she saw Evan at a dozen paces’ distance. Evan trembled for the cup. It was not dropped. Corinna had herself better in hand than Anway. No muscle of her face changed; only the light of her eyes hardened.

“She thinks you brought me aboard,” murmured Evan wickedly.

Anway flushed.

Corinna resumed her feeding of the baby.

Evan was divided between admiration and chagrin. Secretly he had counted on his appearance creating a more dramatic effect than this.

Anway hung around in a miserable state of indecision. If Evan had only given him an excuse to punch him he would have been glad no doubt. Finally he said:

“You see what she’s doing. Come away and let her be.”

Evan good-humouredly shook his head. “The sight gives me too much pleasure,” he said. “But don’t let me keep you.”

But Anway lingered unhappily, walking away a little and coming back.

Corinna did not look at Evan again. Her self-control was too provoking. “By Heaven, I’ll make her show some feeling before the day’s out!” he vowed to himself. When the cup was empty she came straight toward him with her chin up.

“How do you do, Corinna?” said Evan.

She looked at him with the faint air of surprise she knew so well how to assume. Then, as if suddenly placing him: “Oh! You must excuse me now. I have a dozen hungry babies to feed.”

Evan, with a smile, allowed her to pass downstairs. It required no small amount of self-control. “Patience, son!” he said to himself. “You have all day before you. If you lose your temper, she’ll have you exactly where she wants you. However she bedevils you, you must be little Bright-eyes still!”

Corinna presently returned with more food and proceeded to the next baby in line. In the meantime Anway, finding himself both unnecessary and helpless in this situation, had drifted away to confer with his “brothers,” perhaps. The second baby’s mother was perfectly capable of feeding her own offspring, and Evan saw that Corinna was merely using the infant as a shield against him. But he could not seem to interfere between a helpless baby and its food.

When she passed him again bound down below he said: “Let me help you.”

“Thanks, this is hardly in your line,” she said coldly.

Nevertheless he followed her down and saw that she went to the galley for a soft-boiled egg for the next child.

“You’re wasting your time running up and down,” he said with obstinate good nature. “Let me be your waiter and fetch the different orders while you feed.”

“Thanks; I don’t need your assistance,” she said.

But he saw that her temper was beginning to rise, and took heart. If he could only put her in the wrong! He blandly followed her back again, and as she started to feed he found out for himself what the next baby required. This was a small one and its order was for six ounces of milk with two ounces of barley water and a teaspoonful of sugar added, the whole in a bottle well-warmed.

He procured it from the galley in due course. Corinna received it of him with a very ill grace. “She’d make a face at me if she didn’t have her dignity to keep up,” thought Evan. After that he had her. They worked their way down one side of the saloon and back on the other, to all outward appearance at least like two pals. Evan was careful to confine his remarks to milk, oatmeal gruel, beef broth and orange juice. Corinna could not find matter in this to quarrel over. She was as acidly sweet as one of the oranges.

Only the little ones and the sick were specially fed in the saloon. The others were taken down in relays to the dining-room on the main deck aft. Corinna’s and Evan’s task came to an end at last. As he carried the last cup back to the galley Evan said to himself: “Now’s my chance!”

But when he returned he saw that Corinna, for the sake of the convalescent children not allowed out on deck, had started to tell a story. They were pressing around her in close ranks that presented a triple line of defence.