"What is?" said Maruja, suddenly.
"Why, the private tramp's."
"The peripatetic secretary," suggested Raymond.
"Yes," continued Amita, "Mr. Prince was so struck with his gratitude to the old Doctor that he hunted him up in San Jose, and brought him here. Since then Prince has been so interested in him—it appears he was somebody in the States, or has rich relations—that he has been telegraphing and making all sorts of inquiries about him, and has even sent out his own lawyer to hunt up everything about him. Are you listening?"
"Yes."
"You seem abstracted."
"I am hungry."
"Why not dine here; it's an hour earlier than at home. Aladdin would fall at your feet for the honor. Do!"
Maruja looked at them with innocent vagueness, as if the possibility were just beginning to dawn upon her.
"And Clara Wilson is just dying to see the mysterious unknown again. Say yes, little Maruja."