dat Ah has.
Now back up an' look arter dem hosses! Git onto yo' job befo' Ah
discharges yo'!"

"Well, wouldn't dat ar gib a ring-tailed elephant a cramp!" muttered
Jumbo warmly, as he went about his work.

An hour after the arrival at Merry Home the visitors were ushered into
the large, light, airy dining room, where they found seats at a long
table. There were servants enough for the occasion, and everything was
served promptly.

Mrs. Morton sought to secure a seat at Greg Carker's side, but in a
clever manner Carker had avoided such proximity to her, without seeming
to do so intentionally. Instead of having her at his elbow, it was
Juanita who sat there.

"Well, senyorita," said Carker, smiling on her, "what do you think of
Frank Merriwell's home and his friends?"

"Oh, eet ees the most splendeed theeng I evaire see," she murmured. "Eet
makes me feel so happy for you all."

"Happy?" said Carker, regarding her closely. "Why, I fancied you were
looking rather unhappy. To me you seemed downcast. Has anything occurred
to make you sad?"

"Oh, eet ees that I am so far from home--perhaps," she answered. "Why
deed you not seet by the beauteeful lady you meet again one time more
on the train?"

"Whom do you mean?"

"The friend of Senyorita Badgaire. I theenk she ees so veree pretty. She
ees marreed, eh?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Yes, she's married," muttered Carker.

"You are sorree?"

"Sorry?"

"_Si, senyor._ Eef she was not marreed, perhaps you would beside her
seet."

"I don't think so--at least, knowing her as I do now. Still, I don't
blame her. I'm the cause of it all."

"You feel veree, veree bad?"

"I'll be honest with you, senyorita--I can't tell whether I feel very bad
or not. I have felt rather upset, I confess. But, my dear girl, human
nature is peculiar. It's a strange thing, but I believe most men and
most women take melancholy delight in feeling themselves to be martyrs.
We all delight to moan over lost loves. That is the poetry in our
natures. Occasionally we spend our time grieving over some lost love
that reason and good judgment tells us would have come to naught under
any circumstances. I hope Mrs. Morton is happy and satisfied. Perhaps
you'll think me fickle, senyorita, but let me confess to you the fact
that I'm not feeling as much like grieving as I was--before I met you."

For a few moments Juanita did not seem to grasp his meaning, but when
she did the soft, warm color mo