Well, they settled it that way and I was mighty glad to get her off our hands so easy. Next afternoon the Consul shows up at our ranch as gay as an up-state deacon who's seeing the town incog. "Sir," says he to the Boss, givin' him the right hand of fellowship, "you're a real gent. After what you did last night I'm proud to know you; and I'm happy to state that it's all off with the Princess." Then he went on to tell how Miss Padova, being out of her latitude, hadn't got her book straight. She'd carried away the notion that when a Princess went out of her class she had a right to sign on any chap that she liked the looks of, without waitin' for him to make the first move. They did it that way at home. But when the Consul's wife had explained the United States way, and how the Boss was a good deal of a rooster himself, with real money enough to buy up a whole rink full of Dago princes, why Miss Padova feels like a plush Christmas box at a January sale. She turns on the sprinkler, wants to know what they suppose the Boss thinks of her, and says she wants to go back to It'ly by the next trolley. "But she'll get over feeling bad," says the Consul. "We'll ship her back next Friday, and you can take it from me that the incident is closed." I was lookin' for the Boss to open a bottle or two on that. But he didn't. For a pleased man he held in well. "Poor little girl!" says he, looking absent minded towards the Bronx. Then he cheers up a minute. "I say, do you mind if I run up and see her once before she sails?" "You may for all of me," says the Consul, "but if you'll listen to my advice you won't go." He did though, and lugged me along for a chaperone, which is some out of my line. "I'm afraid they've rather overdone the explaining business," says he on the way up; and while I had my own idea as to that, I had sense enough, for once, not to butt in. That was an ice house call, all right. They left us on the mat while our cards went up, and after a while the hired girl comes down to give us the book-agent glare. "Th' Missus," says she, "says as how the young lady begs to be 'xcused." "Does the young lady know we're here?" says the Boss. "She does," says the girl, and shuts the door. "Gee!" says I, "that's below the belt." The Boss hadn't a word left in him, but I wouldn't have met him in the ring about then for anything less'n a bookie's bundle. Just as we hit the sidewalk we hears a front window go up, and down comes a red rose plunk in front of us. "Many happy returns of the day," says I, handing it to the Boss. "I suppose you're right," says he. "It's the only way to look at it, I expect; and yet--oh, hang it all, Shorty, what's the use?" "Ahr-r, say!" says I. "Switch off! It's all over, and you've side stepped takin' the count." CHAPTER IV Does the Boss let it go at that? Say, I was just thick enough to guess that he would. I was still havin' that dream, a few days later, when the Boss says to me: