aps penniless.
(Wipes her eyes.)

Col. Starbottle. The Devil! Another prodigal. (Aloud.) My dear, the case
you have just stated would appear to be the--er--er--normal condition
of the--er--youth of America. But why was he discharged? (Pouring out
liquor.)

Manuela (demurely glancing at the colonel). He was drunk, senor.

Starbottle (potently). Drunkenness, my child, which is--er--weakness in
the--er--er--gentleman, in the subordinate is a crime. What--er--excites
the social impulse and exhilarates the fancy of the--er--master of the
house, in the performance of his duty, renders the servant unfit
for his. Legally it is a breach of contract. I should give it as my
opinion,--for which I am personally responsible,--that your friend Diego
could not recover. Ged! (Aside.) I wonder if this scapegoat could be our
black sheep.

Manuela. But that was not all, senor. It was an excuse only. He was sent
away for helping our young lady to a cavalier. He was discharged because
he would not be a traitor to her. He was sent away because he was too
good, too honorable,--too-- (Bursts out crying.)

Starbottle (aside). Oh, the Devil! THIS is no Sandy Morton. (Coming
forward gravely.) I have never yet analyzed the--er--er--character
of the young gentleman I have the honor to assist in restoring to his
family and society; but judging--er--calmly--er--dispassionately, my
knowledge of his own father--from what the old gentleman must have been
in his unregenerate state, and knowing what he is now in his present
reformed Christian condition, I should say calmly and deliberately that
the son must be the most infernal and accomplished villain unhung. Ged,
I have a thought, an inspiration. (To MANUELA, tapping her under the
chin.) I see, my dear; a lover, ha, ha! Ah, you rogue! Well, well, we
will talk of this again. I will--er--er--interest myself in this Diego.
[Exit MANUELA.

Starbottle (solus). How would it do to get up a prodigal? Umph.
Something must be done soon: the old man grows languid in his search.
My position as a sinecure is--er--in peril. A prodigal ready made! But
could I get a scoundrel bad enough to satisfy the old man? Ged, that's
serious. Let me see: he admits that he is unable to recognize his own
son in face, features, manner, or speech. Good! If I could pick up some
rascal whose--er--irregularities didn't quite fill the bill, and could
say--Ged!--that he was reforming. Reforming! Ged, Star! That very
defect would sho