Ruth drew in her breath sharply, and a rosy glow suffused her face. She did not look at Tom, who chuckled audibly.
"I—I'll never speak to you if you do that again," said the girl, in a low voice.
"Do what?" asked Tom, innocently enough.
"Laugh at—at what he said," and she still blushed, and refused to look up.
"Pardon, senor," went on the man. "No offense, but"
"That's all right," said Tom easily, master of himself now, but wondering much who the man might be. "We were just looking around. Some friends of ours have a cottage here—the Tylers"
"Oh, yes. Then you are very welcome. In fact you would be welcome anyhow, as this island is more or less of the public—what you say, I have not the very good English?" and he looked questioningly at them.
"Oh, you mean that it is open to the public."
"That is so, yes, senor, and senorita. You are intersted in my poor abode here—yes?"
"Oh, we were just looking around," explained Tom. "We did peep in. No harm, I hope."
"None at all, senor."
"I'm from Randall," the pitcher went on. "Miss Clinton is from Fairview."
"Oh, you are fellow students then?"
