"You will be tired, Constantine," said Mrs. Clark, with motherly care,
"and not accustomed to this extreme heat. Come at once and rest. I have
made a great jug of lemonade. Do come in at once."
"If it's all the same to you, aunt, may I have some tea? And do _please_
call me 'Con,'" he replied. No shadow of expression crossed The Eena's
face, but when Mrs. Clark had led Con indoors, the Indian turned to
Banty and remarked quietly, "You're right some ways; he wants tea, and
the sun shines in his shoes, but he good King Georgeman all same, I
know, me."
"Guess you're right, Eena," said Banty. "There's something about him
that's fine, just fine and simple and--English." The Indian nodded and
he made but one more comment. "He brave," he muttered.
"How do you know that?" asked Banty.
"The--what you name it? I think you call it _nostril_ of his nose long,
thin, fine. That shows brave people. When nostril just round and thick
like bullet-hole it shows coward."
Banty laughed aloud, but all the same his fingers flew to his own
nostrils, and notwithstanding his merriment he was gratified to find
fairly long, narrow breathing spaces at the edge of his own nose.
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