Hastings, “and she’s such a fool she calls me René because mamma calls me Ranny———”
Here he dodged the exasperated nurse and took up his station behind Hastings, who laughed, and catching him around the waist lifted him into his lap.
“One of my countrymen,” he said to the girl beside him. He smiled while he spoke, but there was a queer feeling in his throat.
“Don't you see the stars and stripes on my yacht?” demanded Randall. Sure enough, the American colors hung limply under the nurse’s arm.
“Oh,” cried the girl, “he is charming,” and impulsively stooped to kiss him, but the infant Randall wriggled out of Hastings’ arms and his nurse pounced upon him with an angry glance at the girl.
She reddened and then bit her lips as the nurse, with eyes still fixed on her, dragged the child away and ostentatiously wiped his lips with her handkerchief.
Then she stole a look at Hastings and bit her lip again.
“What an ill-tempered woman,” he said. “In America, most nurses are flattered when people kiss their children.”
For an instant she tipped the parsol to hide her face, then closed it with a snap and looked at him definatly.
“Do you think it strange that she objected?”
“Why not?” he said in surprise.
Again she looked at him with quick searching eyes.
His eyes were clear and bright and he smiled back, repeating, “Why not?”
“You are droll,” she murmured bending her head.
