XXVI
In the Palace of the Kings
“Now I've something serious to say, Don Ramón,” began the Cherub, when we had passed the first pink-and-white house which marked the suburbs of Seville. “You mustn't go to an hotel here. It would be dangerous. You must be our guest; and Señor Waring, too. I feel now as if our little play were true, and you were my son; while as for Señor Waring, we might have known him for years, might we not, Pilarcita?”
“Of course. For my part, I'm ready to adopt him for a brother, too,” replied Pilar.
I covered Dick's recoil at this blow by thanking the Cherub. He was more than kind, I said, but we couldn't think of—
“You will not think of disappointing us,” broke in the dear brown fellow. “Could you have imagined that our only reason is to keep you out of danger? No. We're not so unselfish. We want you. Partings will come soon enough. We must have you with us, under our roof, at our table, as long as we can. Now you understand, you will say ‘yes.’ ”
“In my country,” said Dick, as a broad hint to me, “when we tell people we want them to visit us, we mean it; and I guess Colonel O'Donnel and Miss O'Donnel are the same sort.”
Of course I wanted to say yes; and, of course, after this, I did say yes without further parleying.