“Now, is not that beautiful!” exclaimed the jeweler. “What a gem! The finest of any that I have imported yet, and it fits as though it had been ordered for her.” He cast a persuasive smile upon Walton whose interest in the fair Beppie he well knew. The latter pretended not the slightest understanding. “It is well cut,” she said. “And the loveliest you have ever worn,” added Walton hopefully. By her side, in front of the counter and between their bodies, he was endeavoring to take her free hand. “Let it stay,” he said gently, when he had secured it, and was signalling the significance of the ring to her fingers. “Oh,” she said, smiling as if she were only jesting, “you are too daring. I might!” “Do,” he answered. “Such a ring!” said the jeweler. “I will then,” said she. “Then, Master Maton,” said Walton, “you need only send the bill to me,” and he laughed as he pushed the remaining display away. As they came out, after having vaguely picked over the others, the young lover was all elation. Upon the narrow side-path a servant wheeling a trunk to the Liverpool dock upon a barrow brushed him rudely, but he did not notice. Only a newsboy crying out the _Gazette_, the blast of the bugle of the incoming stage coach from Boston, the dust of the side-path, where the helper of the Apollo was sweeping the lobby preparatory to the performance of the night, attracted and pleased him. He helped his fiancée gaily into the carriage and half bounded with joy to the seat beside her, where he smiled and smiled. “I may not wear it, though,” said his betrothed, now that the remarkable episode was over, and she held up a dainty finger; “because, as you know, you have not spoken to my father as yet.” “Keep it, nevertheless,” he answered. “I will speak to him fast enough.” “I give you good-day, Master Walton,” said the distinguished Jefferson as they passed from William into Wall Street, near where that statesman made temporary stopping-place when in the city. “Master Jefferson, William,” cried his fiancée softly, using for the first time his given name. “Master Jefferson has bid you good-day.” “Good evening!” cried Walton, all deference in a moment because of the error which his excitement had occasioned, “good evening to you, sir!” and he bowed, and bowed very gracefully again. “How can I be so mindful, though, of all these formalities,” he said explanatorily as he turned once more to his fair intended, “when I have you? It is not to be expected.” “But necessary, just the same,” she said. “And if you are to begin thus quickly neglecting your duties, what am I to think?”