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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?"
The old man asked in his simplicity: "Madjor Shaughnessy?" Mazaro smiled mockingly. "Mayor Shaughness'," he said; "oh, no; not Mayor Shaughness'!" Pauline could stay no longer; escape she must, though it be in Manuel Mazaro's very face. Turning again and looking up into Galahad's face in a great fright, she opened her lips to speak, but
"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.
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