emember," said she. "Oh, how I wish we could help you!
It would be such a revenge upon him for poor Eulalia and for Corcito.
Papa, _can't_ we do something?"

"If we could," echoed the Cherub, "_for his father's son!_"

Suddenly the girl jumped up and clapped her hands. "Oh, I have thought of
the thing!" she cried "It would be like a play." But her face fell. "I
don't know how to propose it," said she. "Perhaps you and Mr. Waring would
disapprove. And how could we invite ourselves--"

She stopped; but I made her go on. "Please tell us," I said. "It's sure to
be a splendid plan. And anything associated with you would bring luck."

"This would be very much associated with us," said she, laughing; "for the
idea is that, instead of going home by rail as we meant to do, day after
to-morrow, we go on in your car with you, pretending to be Mr. Waring's
guests, and you supposed to be my brother Cristobal."

"Pilarcita, some wild bird has built its nest in your brain," said the
Cherub.

"Wait till I finish!" the girl commanded. And it was easy to see that,
though her father shook his head, she was a spoilt darling who could do
nothing wrong.

"I only wish Cristobal were here," she went on, breathlessly; "but there
was a regimental dinner, and he had to leave us. He'll come in later, and
you shall meet him, and hear what he says to the plan. Oh, there's not
much fear that he'll object, when you are Angele's friend, and she's doing
all she can for you. He'd walk through fire to please Angele. And this
would be but to give up his leave--or at least the going home with us--and
lending you his uniform, which I'm sure would fit you sweetly."

I could not help laughing at the way she disposed of her brother and his
plans, to say nothing of those she was making for me; but she rushed on,
anxious to justify her counsel.

"You don't understand yet," she insisted. "It's a _wonderful_ idea. You
see, papa and I have met the Duke in Madrid, at friends' houses. I've
scarcely spoken to him, for Spanish girls don't have much chance to talk
with men, but he'll remember me, and papa too. The lucky thing is, he's
never seen my brother since Cristobal was a little boy, and then no more
than once or twice, when he came out to his _ganaderia_. He must know, if
he stops to think, that papa has a son; that's all. And you say the Duke
only saw you at the fancy dress ball, in a Romeo costume, with a fair wig.
When Lady Monica Vale gave that start