Buttons and the Senator were both quite willing to leave. The departure of the Spaniards had taken away the charm of Milan. They had already returned to Spain, and had urged Buttons very strongly to accompany them. It cost him a great struggle to decline, but he did so from certain conscientious motives, and promised to do so after going to Paris. So there was an agonizing separation, and all that. At his room Buttons unbosomed himself to his friends.
"I'll begin at the beginning," said he, directing his remarks more particularly to the Senator.
"My father is a rich man, though you may not think I live very much like a rich man's son. The fact is, he is dreadfully afraid that I will turn out a spendthrift. So he gave me only a moderate sum on which to travel on through Europe. So far I have succeeded very well. Excuse my blushes while I make the sweet confession. The Señorita whom we all admire will, some of these days, I trust, exchange the musical name of Francia for the plainer one of Buttons."
The Senator smiled with mild and paternal approbation, and shook Buttons by the hand.
"It's all arranged," continued Buttons, with sweet confusion. "Now, under the circumstances, you might think it natural that I should go back with them to Spain."
"I should certainly. Why don't you?"
"For two reasons. The first is, I have barely enough tin left to take me to Paris."
At once both the Senator and Dick offered to make unlimited advances. Buttons made a deprecatory gesture.
"I know well that I could look to you for any help in any way. But that is not the reason why I don't go to Spain. I have money enough for my wants if I don't go there."
"What is the real reason, then?"