David groaned.
“I am true man, most Excellency! I half neffer deceive. I neffer can deceive!
“We shall trust you,” said the doctor, gravely. “I feel quite certain you will never deserve to be stuffed with sawdust.”
“How absurd!” ejaculated Aunt Lucy. “Do give him a bath and some decent clothes, and stop bothering him. If we’ve got to have the fellow around let’s make him respectable.”
“That is a task that can only be performed outwardly,” returned the doctor, imperturbably. “But even that is worthy of consideration. Come, Allison, let us see what can be done toward the renovation of David.”
As the shuffling form of “the man who could speak English” disappeared through the archway, Aunt Lucy, who had been shrewdly studying his face, remarked oracularly:
“He’s playing possum. You mark my words, that Jew’s no fool. If he was, he wouldn’t be a Jew.”
CHAPTER XII
THE GIRL ON THE DIVAN.
“Now this,” said the Colonel, “is to be a council of war. We are in grave difficulties, and may as well look the matter straight in the face.”
The little band of Americans seemed all to agree with him, for it was with fitting gravity that they turned their eyes upon the leader of the Commission—all except Aunt Lucy, whose wondering gaze was full upon little David, resplendent in his new costume. David’s outer robe was orange and white, and his inner garb brilliant green. An orange turban was twisted around his bald head and orange hose covered his stubby legs. This gorgeousness was due to a whim of the doctor, and it appeared to be eminently satisfactory to David. A native barber had trimmed and curled his straggling beard and the Jew had been scrubbed and scented so thoroughly that he had a fresh and wholesome look which was in strong contrast to his former unkempt condition.