“Yes, sir—”
Before Armstrong could continue De Peyster approached nearer to him and lowered his voice. “I say—is there a Miss Thayer from America visiting here just now?”
A quick movement on De Peyster’s part deposited a franc in Jack’s grimy palm. Holding his hand in front of him, his astonished look alternated between the piece of silver and his friend’s face until he found himself unable to keep up the farce.
“De Peyster, you are a fraud!” Armstrong laughed boisterously at the look of dismay in Ferdinand’s face as a realization came to him. “Do you mean to tell me that the joys of a honeymoon and life in Italy have wrought so many changes that you don’t recognize me?”
“But can you blame me?” De Peyster joined in the merriment. “Run and get some one to tell you how you look.”
The sound of this unexpected hilarity reached the terrace, and Uncle Peabody, flanked by both of the girls, came rushing out fearful lest Jack’s problem had resulted in temporary mental derangement. A glance at the picture before them, however, explained the situation better than words, and Helen hurried forward to greet her visitor while Inez followed behind.
“Ferdy De Peyster—in the flesh!” cried Helen. “What does this mean, and when did you reach Florence?”
Armstrong gave him no opportunity to reply. “He prefers to speak French, Helen, and he is just throwing his money around.”
Then turning to De Peyster and exhibiting his pourboire, he repeated, “Comprenez vous français?” while both men went off again into a paroxysm of laughter.
“What is the joke?” Helen asked, looking from one to the other completely mystified.