'"So nice and ripe'!" groaned the man who had awakened O'Reilly. "Major
Ramos told me to guard her with my life because she is the guest of
Cuba. Well, I shall kill myself."
The country woman laid a trembling hand upon Norine's arm, inquiring, gently: "How are you feeling, my beautiful dove? Sick, eh?"
"What on earth ails these people?" inquired the object of all this solicitude. "I haven't made away with a baby. Maybe they're afraid I won't pay for my food?"
Light came to O'Reilly. "I remember now," said he. "Mangoes and milk are supposed to be poisonous. The woman wants to know how you feel."
"Poisonous! Nonsense! They taste splendid. Tell her I'm still half starved."
It proved now that one of the three members of the landing-party possessed an unsuspected knowledge of English, which modesty alone had prevented him from revealing. Under the stress of his emotion he broke out:
"Oh, missy! Those fruit is skill you."
"I don't believe it," Miss Evans declared.
"It skill you, all right. Maybe you got a headache here, eh?" The speaker laid a hand upon his abdomen and leaned forward expectantly.
"Nothing but an aching void."