far different type,
seemed preoccupied, perhaps unwilling to see, for her large, dark,
thoughtful eyes were engaged with some object on the opposite side--not
even with the distinguished looking soldier who sat facing her and
talking quietly at the moment with Mr. Prime. There was a gleam of
triumph in Mrs. Garrison's dancing eyes as she took out a flat notebook
and pencil and dashed off a few lines in bold and vigorous strokes.
Tearing out the page, she rapidly read it over, folded it and glanced
imperiously about her. A cavalry sergeant, one of the home troop destined
to remain at the Presidio, was leaning over the edge of the pier, hanging
on to an iron ring and shouting some parting words to comrades on the
upper deck, but her shrill soprano cut through the dull roar of deep,
masculine voices and the tramp of feet on resounding woodwork.

"Sergeant!" she cried, with quick decision. "Take this over to the
officer in command of that guard. Then bring a dozen men and move these
two tables across the pier." The cavalryman glanced at the saucy little
woman in the stunning costume, "took in" the gold crossed sabres, topped
by a regimental number in brilliants that pinned her martial collar at
the round, white throat, noted the ribbon and pin and badge of the Red
Cross, and the symbol of the Eighth Corps in red enamel and gold upon the
breast of her jacket, and above all the ring of accustomed authority in
her tone, and never hesitated a second. Springing to the pile of boxes he
grasped the paper; respectfully raised his cap, and bored his stalwart
way across the pier. In three minutes he was back--half a dozen soldiers
at his heels.

"Where'll you have 'em, ma'am--miss?" he asked, as the men grasped the
supports and raised the nearmost table.

"Straight across and well over to the edge," she answered, in the same
crisp tones of command. Then, with total and instant change of manner, "I
suppose _your_ tables should go first, Madam President," she smilingly
said. "It shall be as you wish about the others."

And the Red Cross was vanquished.

"I declare," said an energetic official, a moment later, leaning back on
her throne of lemon boxes, and fanning herself vigorously, "for a whole
hour I've been trying to move that officer's heart and convince him the
order didn't apply to us. Now how did--she--do it?"

"The officer must be some old--some personal friend," hazarded the
secretary, with a quick feminine comprehensiv