"I will not, father," said Cardo, pushing his plate away; "I will never
mention them to you again--"

"Good!" replied his father. "I have a letter here which I would like
to read to you, but not this morning, as I am very busy."

"All right, father--in the afternoon," said Cardo; and when Betto
appeared to clear away the breakfast things he was lost in a profound
reverie, his long legs stretched out before him and his hands buried
deep in his pocket.

Betto tried in vain to recall him to outward surroundings by clattering
her china and by sundry "h'ms" and coughs, but Cardo still remained
buried in thought and jingling his money in his pocket. At last she
_accidentally_ jerked his head with her elbow.

"Hello, Betto! what is the matter?"

"My dear boy," said Betto, "did I hurt you? Where were you so late
last night?"

"Oh, out in the storm. Have you seen my wet clothes? I flung them out
through my bedroom window; you will find them in a heap on the garden
wall."

"Wet clothes? Caton pawb! did you get in the sea then?"

"Oh, yes! tumbled over and over like a pebble on the beach," he said,
rising; "but you know such duckings are nothing to me; I enjoy them!"