Walter and his companion rose and, leaving the car, stepped out on the platform. Walter asked leave to carry a small bundle belonging to the young lady.
“Could you recommend any one who is likely to want his life insured?” he asked.
His companion pointed to a small house some quarter of a mile distant, but plainly visible on account of its high location.
“That house belongs to a German named Louis Fishbach,” she said. “He has a little money, and earns good wages in a shoe shop. He has a wife and four young children. Perhaps he will be willing to insure.”
“Thank you. I will try him.”
“I will leave you here, as I live in a different direction. I am sure I am much obliged to you for your politeness, Mr.—” Here she hesitated.
“Sherwood,” supplied Walter.
“Mr. Sherwood. My name is Jennie Gilbert.”
“Good afternoon, Miss Jennie,” said Walter, politely removing his hat.
He stopped a moment and watched the retreating figure of the young girl.