"Say, Star," said Edith, as she seated herself on an ottoman at the feet of Star, and taking one of Star's hands in hers, "I have a trip planned for you; will you go?"
"If it is your wish, I will," answered Star.
"Star," and Edith looked up into her friend's face, blushing the least bit, "you remember the young man of whom I was telling you about meeting by chance? Yes. He is now my father's private secretary."
"Oh, is he?" asked Star, by rote.
"Yes; and by my request, too. I will take you to my father's office tomorrow, and, if he is there, you shall share his acquaintance with me."
"I shall be glad to meet him—if he is your friend," said Star.
"He is my friend, Star—no, not yet—but I want him to be, Star," and Edith buried her head in Star's lap to hide her tell-tale face. Then raising her head, in a moment, "Will you go? Of course you will."
"If you permit me to talk with him," said Star, teasingly, "I will go."
"Who would think of being jealous of you, my dear Star? Why should I? He is no more—yes, he is—" and Edith buried her face again, while Star stroked her long silken tresses in loving admiration.
"Ho, ho, Edith! I know," said Star, pointing a finger of jest at her, as she raised her face.