Paul Stone drew chairs forward for Dr. Shaw and himself, and they seated themselves.
Roma resumed her own seat and her knitting work, for she knew that nothing made her friends feel more at ease than to see that they did not interrupt the mechanical work that could be carried on without interrupting conversation or withdrawing the least attention from themselves.
“Mr. Stone graduated last summer from the Theological College of Alexandria, Virginia. He was ordained only this last Easter. Our parish is his first charge,” said Dr. Shaw, with a smiling glance from his hostess to his clerical brother.
Roma followed his glance, and noted the figure and appearance of the young stranger. He was about twenty-five years of age, tall, broad-shouldered, finely formed, with regular features, dark complexion, black eyes, black hair, and a cleanly shaven face. But his greatest charm was in the expression of his countenance—grave, sweet, intellectual, spiritual, suggesting pictures of the young St. John, the beloved disciple.
“I am very happy that you have come to our parish. I thank you very much for coming,” said Roma softly.
“My gratitude is due to you, lady, for giving me the opportunity to work,” he earnestly replied.
“My young brother is going to be of the greatest use to you in the organization of your Free School for Colored People,” said Dr. Shaw, “and other good works.”
“I am very sure that he will,” Miss Fronde replied, not formally and conventionally, but most cordially and emphatically.
Paul Stone flushed and bent his head, saying modestly:
“I shall spare no pains to do my very best.”