Her young attendant noticed it, and drawing a scarf-pin from his neck-tie—a pin with a beautiful cameo head—he passed it to her.
“Can you make this do for the present?” he asked.
She took it, noticing the exquisitely carved stone as she did so, and pinned her shawl closely once more.
When he saw that she was as comfortable as he could make her, he stepped back a pace or two, and drawing a card from a pocket, wrote something upon it, and then passed it to Mr. Rosevelt, saying, with a frank smile:
“I presume you think it is high time that I introduced myself; pardon my neglect upon that point.”
The old gentleman took the card and read the name:
“Archibald Sherbrooke.”
He bent a searching look upon the young man’s face for a moment, but the frank, honest eyes met his with such a genial expression that he could not harbor a doubt of him, and he said, cordially:
“Thank you, Mr. Sherbrooke; I am glad to know your name. Mine is Rosevelt—Jacob Rosevelt—and this young lady allow me to introduce as Miss Star Gladstone,” he concluded, turning with a smile to Star.
Mr. Sherbrooke bowed to Miss Gladstone and raised his cap in the most gallant manner; while Star, thinking what a nice-sounding name Sherbrooke was, and what a nice-looking man its owner was, acknowledged his salutation with a charming smile and blush.