“How is a girl allowed to go to the theater with you without a chaperone?” inquired Rex incredulously.  “This is New York.”

Strong brought down his fist.  “Death to chaperones! A bas les chaperones! Don’t you think girl’s mother trust her to me?  Look at me!  I’ll be chaperone to tha’ girl, and father, ‘n’ mother, ‘n’ a few uncles and aunts.”  He threw his arm out with a gesture which comprised the universe.  “I’ll be all the world to tha’ girl.  You go meet her ‘n’ tell her you got me drunk,” he concluded with a radiant smile.

Rex considered.  There seemed to be enough method in Strong’s madness to justify the belief that he had an engagement.  If so, he must by all means wait and trust to luck to pick out the “lovely blue-eyed girlie” who was the “party of the other part,” and hope for an inspiration as to what to tell her.  She might be with or without a chaperone, she might be any variety of the species, but Strong seemed to be quite clear that she had blue eyes.

The crowd from the incoming boat began to unload into the ferry-house, and Rex placed himself anxiously by the entrance.  Three or four thin men scurried in advance, then a bunch of stout and middle-aged persons straggled along puffing.  Then came a set of young people in theater array, chattering and laughing as they hurried, and another set, and another—­the main body of the little army was upon him.  Rex scanned them for a girl alone or a girl with her mother.  Ah! here she was—­this must be Strong’s “blue-eyed girlie.”  She was alone and pretty, a little under-bred and blond.  Rex lifted his hat.

“I beg your pardon,” he said, in his most winning way; “are you waiting for Mr. Strong?”

The girl threw up her head and looked frightened, and then angry.

“No, I am not,” she said, and then, with a haughty look, “I call you pretty saucy,” and Rex was left mortified and silent, while a passing man murmured, “Served you right,” and a woman laughed scornfully.  He stalked across to the tranquil form on the truck.

“Billy,” he said, and shook a massive shoulder.  “Wake up.  Tell me that girl’s name.”

Strong opened his eyes like a baby waked from dewy sleep.  “Wha’s that, Recky—­dear old Recky—­bes’ fren’——­”

“Cut that out,” said Rex, sharply.  “Tell me the name of the girl you’re waiting here to meet,” and he laughed a short bitter laugh.  The girl whom “Billy” was waiting to meet!  Rex was getting tired and hungry.

Strong smiled a gentle, obstinate, tipsy smile and shook his head.  “No, Recky, dear ol’ fren’—­bes’ fren’—­well, nev’ min’.  Can’t tell girl’s name; tha’s her secret.”

“Don’t be an ass, Billy—­quick, now, tell me the name.”

“Naughty, naughty!” quoted Billy again, and waggled his forefinger.  “Danger hell fire!  Couldn’ tell girl’s name, Recky—­be dishon’able.  Couldn’, no, couldn’.  Anythin’ else—­ask m’ anythin’ else in all these wide worlds”—­and he struck his breast with fervor.  “Tell you anythin’, Recky, but couldn’ betray trustin’ girl’s secret.”