“Only day before yesterday,” laughed Juanita Windom, with a shy glance at Cliff, who looked extremely self-conscious under the battery of such eyes. “Why, it seems months since you called at the house. And the dreadful adventure you had at the upper plaza when that horrid driver tried to rob you, and throw you down the cliff. It was in the papers yesterday. You must tell me all about it, Mr. Faraday.”
“I will be delighted——”
“Haw!”
The little group turned at the sound. The Englishman, monocle screwed tightly in his eye, was making a profound bow to Juanita.
“Haw! delighted, Miss Windom. Delighted to see you on board, don’t ye know. Beautiful—aw!—day; lovely weather, lovely girls, and you—aw!—the fairest of them all.”
“Haw!”
The exclamation did not come from the Briton, and he looked at Clif, finding that youth apparently engaged in the innocent occupation of arranging the strap of his cap.
Juanita and her friend repressed their laughter with difficulty.
“Haw! it must have been an echo, don’t ye know. Fawncy hearing one’s own voice when you didn’t speak. Deuced good joke, eh?”
And the Englishman burst into a hearty laugh. But there was something in it that did not ring true to Clif.