“There, Jack Burnham! You’re an untruthful boy!” said Carlos, indignantly.
“Hold on! That’s serious!”
“Breakfast isn’t over.”
“It is. Dennis and Mike had theirs two hours ago. I saw them go by the window. They stopped to look in and shake their fists at you, ‘friendly like.’ They’re good wrestlers, the pair of them. Between us we’ll give you plenty of exercise. Hello! Who’s that wants to come in? Why?”
“To see my new bruvver.”
“Who is that?” asked Carlos.
“That—is the future Governor of New Mexico. Or President of the United States. Teddy Burnham—here you are!”
With that he admitted a dark-headed little four-year-old, very short and fat, and whose brown eyes were the sharpest possible to a childish face. This youngster planted himself firmly just within the room and ordered:
“Boy, come here, Teddy wants to see you.”
The stranger laughingly obeyed.