“Yes, indeed; and it would be such fun if we could keep it up for awhile,” Star said, gayly. “But,” with a regretful little sigh, “like Cinderella of old, I suppose we shall soon be aroused to the fact that our coach and horses are gone, and find the stern realities of life staring us in the face again.” Mr. Rosevelt laughed. “Would you like to be a fine lady, Star?” he asked. “I don’t know,” she answered, thoughtfully. “I believe I should like to _try_ it for a little while, just to see how it would seem.” There was not time for any more conversation, for the door was at this moment opened by a neat-looking servant. She appeared to recognize Mr. Rosevelt, for she greeted him with a smile, and then her eyes wandered inquiringly to Star’s lovely face. She invited them to enter, and conducted them into a handsome drawing-room on the right of the hall, when, taking Mr. Rosevelt’s card, she retired, leaving them alone. “What a lovely room!” Star breathed, as her eyes roved about the apartment, over the beautiful pictures, the bright, rich carpet, the carved ebony furniture, upholstered in warm-hued satins, choice bric-a-brac, and all those fine things which add so much to a place like that. “Your friend must be a ‘fine lady,’ with plenty of money,” she added. Mr. Rosevelt merely nodded his head in reply, while he watched the door with evident impatience. It was soon slowly opened, and a familiar face appeared in the aperture—a face all beaming with smiles of pleasure and good nature. “Mrs. Blunt!” cried Star, in astonishment; and springing toward the woman, she grasped both her hands warmly. “Yes, Miss Star,” the woman returned, half laughing, half crying; “I _am_ Mrs. Blunt, or I’m much mistaken, as I sometimes imagine I may be when I get to thinking about everything, and how strange it has all turned out. How well you’re looking, miss, and it does my old eyes a wonderful sight of good to see your bright face again.” Star thought her language somewhat ambiguous; but everything seemed rather ambiguous just then. “Do you live here?” she questioned. “Yes, I live here; or——” “Have you been in New York long? and why haven’t we seen you before? and what are you laughing at?” The young girl’s astonishment seemed to increase, for the woman appeared strangely, and was shaking with suppressed laughter. “I’m laughing because I’m so glad to see you. I’ve been in New York a month, and haven’t been to see you because the last time I saw Mr. Rosevelt he told me he was going to bring you to see me soon; so I’ve been content to wait,” Mrs. Blunt explained. Star wondered if the present occupant of that elegant place allowed her housekeeper to entertain her friends in the drawing-room; if so, it was surely a new departure, and not exactly in accordance with Mrs. Richards’ ideas of the treatment of servants. “Take off your hat, dearie,” Mrs. Blunt continued, “for I have a nice little lunch waiting for you.”