“Si, Señorita”—he had.
Why, then, hadn’t his name been brought to her?
Extended hands and up-shrugged shoulders that might mean either apology or incomprehension.
Straightway Miss Brewster pinned a hat upon her brown head at an altogether casual and heart-distracting angle and sallied down into the tesselated bowl of the park. Quite unconscious of her approach, until she was close upon him, her objective chatted fluently with the legless one, until she spoke quietly, almost in his ear. Then it was only by a clutch at the bench back that he saved himself from disaster on his return to earth.
“Wh—wh—what—wh—where—how did you come here?” he stuttered.
“Now, now, don’t be alarmed,” she admonished. “Shut your eyes, draw a deep breath, count three. And, as soon as you are ready I’ll give you a talisman against social panic. Are you ready?”
“Y-yes.”
“Very well. Whenever I come upon you suddenly, you mustn’t try to jump up into a tree as you did just now—”
“I didn’t!”
“Oh, yes. Or burrow under a rock, as you did the other day—”