The Cuban's eyes flashed, and he arose and crossed the room, so that when Dutch looked in that direction it was to see that he whispered something to Hester, who glanced across at him where he was standing by Bessy. The next minute he was seized by Mr Parkley, who backed him up into a corner, where he seized one particular button on the young man's breast--a habit he had, going to the same particular button as a small pig seeks the same single spot when in search of nutriment. "Dutch," said Mr Parkley, as soon as they were alone, and while he was busily trying with his left hand to screw the button off, "Dutch, shake hands." The young man did so wonderingly. "That's right: no one's looking. That chap's going to sing another song, and little Hester's getting ready the music. See here, Dutch, you won't be offended at what I say?" "Offended? Absurd!" "Old, tried, staunch friend, you know. Wouldn't say a word to hurt you, and I love that little girl of yours like a father--just as if she was my own flesh and blood." "And I'm sure Hester loves and respects you, Mr Parkley." "Yes, yes, of course; and that's what makes me so wild about it." "I don't understand you, Mr Parkley," said Dutch, uneasily. "There, that's what I was afraid of when I spoke. But I must say it now, Pugh. I'm afraid I made a mistake in asking you to invite that Cuban hero. I'll tell him to come and stay with me." "Indeed, I beg you will do no such thing, Mr Parkley," said Dutch hotly, as his face burned with mortification. "I understand what you mean, sir, and can assure you that your suspicions are unjust." "I'm very glad to hear you say so, Pugh, I am indeed," said Mr Parkley earnestly. "Don't be angry with me, my dear boy. I'm getting old-- stupid, I suppose. There, don't take any more notice of what I said." Under these circumstances it was hard work for Dutch Pugh to preserve an unclouded face before his guests, but he strove hard--the harder that he was annoyed at people for having the same fancies as those he had tried so hard to banish. It was, then, with no small feeling of pleasure that he welcomed the time when his guests departed, but even then he was not to be spared a fresh wound, for on taking Bessy Studwick down to the fly she said to him in a low voice: "Dutch, I have been trying so hard to-night to love your wife. I do so hope you will be very happy." "Thank you, Bessy, thank you," he said warmly. "I'm sure you wish me well." "I do, I do, indeed," she whispered earnestly, "and therefore I say I do not like your new friend, that foreign gentleman. He is treacherous: I am sure he is. Good-night." "Good-night!" said Dutch to himself as he stood on the gravel path with the gate in his hand listening to the departed wheels; and then in spite of his determination the flood of evil fancies came rolling back, sweeping all before it.