“It is,” commented Jones, rather emphatically: “but I would like to know what right you—you—”
“You see,” interrupted Francisco, cheerfully conscious that explanations were in order, “the señorita have made the promeese to marry weeth me. We have eengaged—ees eet not?—to marree us if the papa of the señorita wills.”
“Ah, I see!” and Jones gave a low whistle of dawning discernment. Then a sarcastic smile spread over his face.
“But may I be so bold as to inquire, Francisco,” he resumed, “what part you played in that interesting conversation of ours this evening? Why didn’t you tell me you were engaged to her?”
“Eet was thees way, señor. Eet was the leetle trick of mine to see the señorita and say the speech for myself. When you say to me to tell the señorita that you are delighted to see her look so well, I say the Americano ees deelighted to see you look so well, señorita—and Francisco lofe you!”
“Well, I’ll be hanged! You infernal—” but Jones checked himself.
“And when the señor say to tell the señorita that he will be glad to say the speech some other time, I tell the señorita that Francisco will be glad to meet her to-night at her weendow on the Calle Aldama. For I love the señorita—ees eet not so, queridita?”
For answer a small hand found its way through the bars of the window to the false Francisco, and Jones heard a low laugh of love and music.
THE STATE HOUSE OF MARYLAND
By George W. McCreary