"Oh!" There was disappointment in her voice. Her mother was looking
at Don Mike sharply, shrewdly, but she said nothing, and Farrel had a
feeling that his big moment had fallen rather flat.

"How soon will John be called upon to bow his head and take the blow?"
Mrs. Parker finally asked. "Much as I sympathize with you, Miguel, I
dislike the thought of John hanging in suspense, as it were."

"Oh, I haven't quite made up my mind," he replied. "I could do it
within three days, I think, but why rush the execution? Three months
hence will be ample time. You see," he confided, "I like you all so
well that I plan to delay action for six months or a year, unless, of
course, you are anxious for an excuse to leave the ranch sooner. If
you really want to go as soon as possible, of course I'll get busy and
cook Señor Parker's goose, but--"

"You're incorrigible!" the lady declared. "Procrastinate, by all
means. It would be very lonely for you without us, I'm sure."

"Indeed, it would be. That portion of me which is Irish would picture
my old hacienda alive at night with ghosts and banshees."

Mrs. Parker was looking at him thoughtfully; seemingly she was not
listening. What she really was doing was saying to herself: "What
marvelous teeth he has and what an altogether debonair, captivating
young rascal he is, to be sure! I cannot understand why he doesn't
melt John's business heart. Can it be that under that gay, smiling,
lovable surface John sees something he doesn't quite like? I wonder."

As they entered the waiting automobile and started for home, Farrel,