“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, who occupied the front seat with the chauffeur, turned and faced the Parkers.  “From this day forward,” he promised them, “we are all going to devote ourselves to the serious task of enjoying life to the utmost.  For my part, I am not going to talk business or Japanese immigration any more.  Are you all grateful?”

“We are,” they cried in unison.

He thanked them with his mirthful eyes, faced around in his seat and, staring straight ahead, was soon lost in day dreams.  John Parker and his wife exchanged glances, then both looked at their daughter, seated between them.  She, too, was building castles in Spain!

When they alighted from the car before the hacienda, Mrs. Parker lingered until the patio gate had closed on her daughter and Farrel; then she drew her husband down beside her on the bench under the catalpa tree.

“John, Miguel Farrel says he has you beaten.”

“I hope so, dear,” he replied feelingly.  “I know of but one way out for that young man, and if he has discovered it so readily I’d be a poor sport indeed not to enjoy his victory.”

“You never really meant to take his ranch away from him, did you, John?”

“I did, Kate.  I do.  If I win, my victory will prove to my entire satisfaction that Don Miguel Jose Federico Noriaga Farrel is a throwback to the Manana family, and in that event, my dear, we will not want him in ours.  We ought to improve our blood-lines, not deteriorate them.”

“Yet you would have sold this valley to that creature Okada.”

“Farrel has convinced me of my error there.  I have been anti-Jap since the day Farrel was thrown from his horse and almost killed—­by a Jap.”

“I’m sure Kay is in love with him, John.”

“Propinquity,” he grunted.

“Fiddlesticks!  The man is perfectly charming.”

“Perhaps.  We’ll decide that point later.  Do you think Farrel is interested in Kay?”

“I do not know, John,” his better half declared hopelessly.  “If he is, he possesses the ability to conceal it admirably.”

“I’ll bet he’s a good poker-player.  He has you guessing, old girl, and the man who does that is a rara avis.  However, Katie dear, if I were you I wouldn’t worry about this—­er—­affair.”