r it still was to him. "But then, among the old fogys
here--blank it all!--it isn't noticed. So I look after her, you see,
or rather make myself responsible for her generally--although, of
course, she has other friends and associates, you understand, more of
her own age and tastes."

"And I've no doubt she's perfectly satisfied," said Paul in a tone of
conviction.

"Well, yes, sir, I presume so," said the colonel slowly; "but I've
sometimes thought, Mr. Hathaway, that it would have been better if
she'd have had a woman's care--the protection you understand, of an
elderly woman of society. That seems to be the style here, you know--a
chaperon, they call it. Now, Milly Woods, you see, is about the same
age, and the Dona Anna, of course, is older, but--blank it!--she's as
big a flirt as the rest--I mean," he added, correcting himself sharply,
"she lacks balance, sir, and--what shall I call it?--self-abnegation."

"Then Dona Anna is still of your party?" asked Paul.

"She is, sir, and her brother, Don Caesar. I have thought it
advisable, on Yerba's account, to keep up as much as possible the
suggestion of her Spanish relationship--although by reason of their
absurd ignorance of geography and political divisions out here, there
is a prevailing impression that she is a South American. A fact, sir.
I have myself been mistaken for the Dictator of one of these infernal
Republics, and I have been pointed out as ruling over a million or two
of niggers like George!"

There was no trace of any conception of humor in the colonel's face,
although he uttered a short laugh, as if in polite acceptance of the
possibility that Paul might have one. Far from that, his companion,
looking at the striking profile and erect figure at his side--at the
long white moustache which drooped from his dark cheeks, and
remembering his own sensations at first seeing George--thought the
popular belief not so wonderful. He was even forced to admit that the
perfect unconsciousness on the part of master and man of any
incongruity or peculiarity in themselves assisted the public
misconception. And it was, I fear, with a feeling of wicked delight
that, on entering the hotel, he hailed the evident consternation of
those correct fellow-countrymen from whom he had lately fled, at what
they apparently regarded as a national scandal. He overheard their
hurried assurance to their English friends that his companions were NOT
from Boston, and enjoyed th