“Humph!  You will have to give up those quarters and go forward.”

“Why?  You have your money for that ticket?”

“Yes, but you’re not Mr. Locke.”

Kirk smiled meditatively.  “How do you know?” he queried.

“Good heavens!  You’ve told me so a dozen—­”

“Ah!  Then you have nothing except my word.  Well, sir, now that I come to think it over, I believe my name is Locke, after all.”  He grinned.  “Anyhow, I love my little room and I think I’ll keep it.  Please don’t be peevish.  I want you to do me a favor.”  He removed the ring from his finger, and, handing it to the Purser, said “I want you to get me two diamonds’ and a ruby’s worth of shirts and collars; and also a safety razor.  My mind has stopped working, but my whiskers continue to grow.”

The officer managed to say with dignity:  “You wish to raise money on this, I presume?  Very well, I’ll see what can be done for you, Mr. Locke.”  As he turned away, Kirk became conscious that the woman in the next chair had let her book fall and was watching him with amused curiosity.  Feeling a sudden desire to confide in some one, he turned his eyes upon her with such a natural, boyish smile that she could not take offence, and began quite as if he had known her for some time: 

“These people are money-mad, aren’t they?  Worst bunch of gold-diggers I ever saw.”  Surprised, she half raised her book, but Kirk ran on:  “Anybody would think I was trying to find a missing will instead of a shirt.  That purser is the only man on the ship my size, and he distrusts me.”

The woman murmured something unintelligible.  “I hope you don’t mind my speaking to you,” he added.  “I’m awfully lonesome.  My name is Anthony, Kirk Anthony.”

Evidently the occupant of the next chair was not a football enthusiast, for, although she bowed her acknowledgment, her face showed that the name carried no significance.

“I understood you to tell the purser your name was Locke,” said she, in a very low-pitched, well-modulated voice.  “I couldn’t help overhearing.”

“But it isn’t really, it’s Anthony.  I’m the undignified heir to the stocks and bonds of an old party by that name who lives in Albany.”

“Darwin K. Anthony?” questioned she, quickly.  “Is he your father?” Her face lighted with a flash of genuine interest.

Kirk nodded.  “He’s my prodigal father and I’m the fatted son.  Do you know the governor?”

“Yes, slightly.”

“Well, what do you think of that?  He’s a great old party, isn’t he?” He chuckled irrepressibly.  “Did you ever hear him swear?”

The woman shook her head with a smile.  “I hardly know him well enough for that.”

“Oh, he’s a free performer; he swears naturally; can’t help it.  Everybody knows he doesn’t mean anything.  It’s funny, isn’t it, with all his credit, that I can’t get a shirt until I put up a diamond ring?  He could buy a railroad with half that security.”