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"Bud, w'ere dad Madjor Shaughnessy?" demanded M. D'Hemecourt, with the little sternness he could command. "Mayor Shaughness' yez-a; was there; boat-a," with a disparaging smile and shake of the head, "he woon-a come-a to you. Senor, oh' no." The old man smiled bitterly. "Non?" he asked. "Oh, no, Senor!" Mazaro drew his chair closer. "Senor;" he paused, "eez a-vary bath-a fore-a you thaughter, eh?"
Her father summoned all his force and rose as if to ask his questioner to leave him; but the handsome Cuban motioned him down with a gesture that seemed to beg for only a moment more. "Senor, if a-was one man whath lo-va you' thaughter, all is possiblee to lo-va."
"Mayor Shaughness'," continued the Cuban; "he nev'r-a lo-va you' thaughter." Galahad was putting the maiden back from the door with his hand. "Pauline," he said, "it's a lie!" "An', Senor," pursued the Cuban, "if a was possiblee you' thaughter to lo-va heem, a-wouth-a be worse-a kine in worlt; but, Senor, I" M. D'Hemecourt made a majestic sign for silence.
"All is possiblee to lo-va, Senor, you shouth-a let marry hore an' tak'n 'way frone d'these plaze, Senor." "Manuel Mazaro," said M. D'Hemecourt, again rising, "you 'ave say enough." "No, no, Senor; no, no; I want tell-a you is a-one man whath lo-va you' thaughter; an' I knowce him!" Was there no cause for quarrel, after all? Could it be that Mazaro was about to speak for Galahad?
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