Soon after the car started the conductor came around to collect the fares.

Frank paid his, and the conductor held out his hand to the lady.

She put her hand into her pocket to draw out her purse, but her countenance changed as her hand failed to find it.

Probably no situation is more trying than to discover that you have lost or mislaid your purse, when you have an urgent use for it.  The lady was evidently in that predicament.  Once more she searched for her purse, but her search was unavailing.

“I am afraid I have lost my purse,” she said, apologetically, to the conductor.

This official was an ill-mannered person, and answered, rudely: 

“In that case, ma’am, you will have to get off.”

“I will give you my card,” said the lady, “and will send double the fare to the office.”

“That won’t do,” said the man, rudely.  “I am responsible for your fare, if you stay on the car, and I can’t afford to lose the money.”

“You shall not lose it, sir; but I cannot walk home.”

“I think you will have to, madam.”

Here Frank interposed.  He had been trained to be polite and considerate to ladies, and he could not endure to see a lady treated with rudeness.

“Take the lady’s fare out of this,” he said.

“And the boy’s, too?”

“Of course.”

The lady smiled gratefully.

“I accept your kindness, my young friend,” she said.  “You have saved me much annoyance.”

“I am very glad to have had the opportunity,” said Frank, politely.

“Of course, I shall insist upon reimbursing you.  Will you oblige me with your address, that I may send you the amount when I return home?”

A boy of less tact than Frank would have expostulated against repayment, but he knew that this would only embarrass the lady, and that he had no right, being a stranger, to force such a favor upon her.  He answered, therefore: 

“Certainly, I will do so, but it will be perfectly convenient for me to call upon you.”

“If it will give you no trouble, I shall be glad to have you call any evening.  I live at No. ——­ Madison Avenue.”

Now it was Frank’s turn to be surprised.  The number mentioned by the lady was that of the house in which Mr. Henry Percival lived.

“I thought Mr. Percival lived at that number?” said Frank.

“So he does.  He is my father.  Do you know him?”

“No; but I was about to call on him.  This morning Mr. Robinson, a broker in Wall Street, told me that he wished to see me.”

“You are not the boy who caused the capture of the bondholder?” asked the lady, quickly.

“Yes, I am the boy, but I am afraid I had less to do with it than has been represented.”

“What is your name?”

“Frank Courtney.”

“My father is very desirous of meeting you, and thanking you for what you have done.  Why have you not called before?”