And the negro mounted the gig and drove off.
“Good-morning, my dear Roma,” said Dr. Shaw, offering his hand.
“How do you do? I am very glad to see you,” said the young lady, cordially taking the proffered hand in both of hers.
“Allow me to introduce to you my esteemed young friend, the Rev. Paul Stone. Mr. Stone, Miss Fronde.”
The young clergyman bowed.
“I am very happy to know you, Mr. Stone,” said Roma, cordially offering her hand, which he took and bowed over, saying:
“I am honored.”
The hall door stood wide open on this lovely May morning. Roma turned with a smile, and with a wave of her hand mutely invited them to precede her into the house.
“Oh, no, thank you. Let us sit out here, if you have no objection; which, as we found you sitting here when we drove up, I presume you have not,” said the old minister, with a deprecating smile.
“Of course not. It is my favorite seat in this season, always excepting the summer house in the garden,” said Roma, with an answering smile.