There was a queer little smile on his face. Perhaps he, too, had seen the old man and understood her look of terror.
By the time she reached her room, Bab had regained her self-composure, and had again determined to say nothing about the adventure. It would only frighten the girls and take away from the pleasure of the visit.
CHAPTER XI—JOSÉ HAS AN ENEMY
“I like them all, the pretty girls,
I like them all whether dark or fair,
But above the rest, I like the best
The girl with the golden hair!”
rang out the charming tenor voice of José, while he thrummed a delightful accompaniment on the piano.
Dinner was over, and the major, and his guests were sitting in the moonlight on the broad piazza. Windows and doors were stretched as wide as possible; the curtains in the red drawing room were drawn back and José was entertaining the company.
“I sing it translated,” he called, as he finished the song, “that it may be understood.”
Whereupon Jimmie winked at Stephen, and looked at Mollie; the major smiled indulgently, and the others were all more or less conscious that Spaniards always liked blond girls because they were so rare in Spain.
Mollie herself, however, was unconscious that she was being sung about. She was looking out across the moonlit stretches of lawn and meadows, her little hands folded placidly in her lap.
“Do you dance as well as sing, Mr. Martinez?” she asked in her high, sweet voice.