"You do look well, Miss Starth," he babbled in his inconsequent way--"and what a slapping day! We had an A1 dip. You should have come along, Mr. O'Neil."
Frank suppressed a smile, thinking how soon his disguise would have vanished had he accepted this offer. "I have been more pleasantly engaged," he said; "here comes Billy and the tea."
Billy was a first-rate hand at getting what he wanted. He brought a tray laden with strawberry jam, a large bowl of Devonshire cream, some hot cakes, and a fresh pot of tea. "You'll starve us out of house and home, Billy," said Mildred, when these were arranged before her. "What will Mrs. Perth say?"
"She'd say eat well, and not too quickly," said Billy, selecting a cake, while Jarman looked on amused.
"You're still a boy, Billy."
"So am I," said Natty, taking a slice of bread and cream, "in spite of being nearly twenty-five. I'm not that till the twenty-fifth of September, you know."
Frank looked up quickly, and glanced sideways at Jarman. That was the date of his own birthday, and then he, like Natty, would be twenty-five. This coincidence, taken in conjunction with the tattooing, puzzled him not a little. Jarman also looked perplexed, and asked a question. "Where were you born, Denham?" he demanded.
"At Zacatecas in Mexico," prattled Natty. "No end of a place. But I went to school in New Orleans. Yes, sir--to a slap-up school. My dad said I'd have to have the best education possible, so that I could look after the money when it came."
"Are you coming into a fortune?" asked Frank.
"Rather--to no end of a fortune. But it's a long yarn. I'll tell it to you some night, Jarman. It's good for your books."