"That was a gallant act," said Star, smiling genially upon him. "I have heard nothing but praise of you for the past two weeks."
Edith thereat blushed more crimson than ever before in all her innocent career; and sought to turn the subject by saying: "Oh, Star—it is spitting snow," looking out the window as she said it.
John's face turned a pinky color also, and he began to have qualms of consternation in being detained from a prompt execution of his work at hand.
Star immediately saw she had made a blunder, and tried to make amends by continuing: "I told Miss Edith that I should be happy to meet such a gallant young man, as she says you are."
Edith was now more flushed. She burned with confusion and despair over Star's untimely statement of facts.
"If you ladies will excuse me, I will resume my work," said John, to avoid further complications between Edith's expressive face and Star's expressive words.
"We will excuse you, Mr. Winthrope—business before pleasure, always," said Edith.
"I am glad to meet you—to have met you—and hope to see you again, Miss Barton," said John, bowing to Star; and then, bowing to Edith, he departed.
In the meantime, Mr. Jarney had taken his seat at his desk in a highly flustered state of mind by reason of his daughter's sudden change of countenance over the unintentional reflect assertion of Star's. When John had closed the door of his office behind him, and the two ladies were alone with Mr. Jarney, the latter turned about in his chair, as if in a passion of rage, and said:
"My dear Edith, what is the meaning of your actions?"