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"You mooch frighten, senor, and you so ver' big. It make me joy." Her
broken English was oddly attractive. "Poof! los Americanos not all
find me so ver' ter'ble."
Stutter Brown ground his white teeth together savagely, his short red
moustache bristling. He was quite young, never greatly accustomed to
companionship with the gentler sex, and of a disposition strongly
opposed to being laughed at. Besides, he felt seriously his grave
deficiencies of speech.
"I-I-I was s-sorter expectin' a-a-another kind of c-c-caller," he
stuttered desperately, in explanation, every freckle standing out in
prominence, "an' th-th-thought m-m-maybe somebody 'd g-g-got the d-drop
on me."
The girl only laughed again, her black eyes sparkling. Yet beneath his
steady, questioning gaze her face slightly sobered, a faint flush
becoming apparent in either cheek.
"You talk so ver' funny, senor; you so big like de tree, an' say vords
dat vay; it make me forget an' laf. You moost not care just for me.


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