"Yes, that's it—I know your sister May," he said, with a smile.
"Do you, really?" said Star.
"I call on him often, and see her, sometimes—she's a dandy," he said.
"A fine girl," corrected Edith.
"Yes; mighty fine," he answered, as he crossed his gloved hands over the head of his cane standing perpendicularly in front of him, and putting his chin down upon them, as if posing as a rejuvenated old man "by the wayside on a mossy stone," looking steadily at them both. "And you are May's sister? Well!"
"I have that honor," replied Star.
"Well! Who would think it? You are so much poortier," he said, quietly and naturally, without intending to be impertinent.
Star blushed at first; but in a moment became vexed, and looked very black at him; that is, as black as she could look, for no matter how she tempered up, not much sign of her resentment was ever evidenced in her face. Edith was astonished at his rudeness, and glanced at Star for an explanation of the bold manner of this young man. Eli, in his transparent innocence, did not feel the effects of their interchange of glances, and was not disturbed. Anticipating that he might precipitate a scene by an unfortunate remark, Edith took up the subject that had caused her to have him present.
"Mr. Jerey," she began, faltering in her speech, "you are Mr. Dieman's agent, I understand?"
"I am," he replied, loftily.