"One's people attend to that, of course," she managed to say, at
length, then changed the subject quickly.
"Do you live in Panama?" she asked.
"Yes. I work on the railroad, or will, in a few days."
"You are so young for such authority. It must be very difficult to
manage railroads."
"Well--I won't have to run the whole works--at first. I'm
beginning gradually, you know--one train at a time."
"That will be easier, of course. What did you say is your whole
name?"
"Kirk Anthony."
"Keerk! It has a fonny sound, has it not?"
"I never noticed it. And yours?"
"Do you speak Spanish?" She regarded him curiously.
"Not a word."
"My name is Chiquita."
He repeated it after her. "It's pretty. What is your last name?"
"That is it. If I told you my first name, you could not use it; it
would not be proper."
"It ought to be something like Ariel. That means 'spirit of the
air and water,' I believe. Ariel Chiquita. No, they don't go
together. What are you laughing at?"
"To see you scratch your neck."
Anthony became conscious of a growing sensation where the strange
pod had dangled against his skin, and realized that he had been
rubbing the spot for some time.
"You did not know it was the cow-nettle, eh?"
"You enjoy seeing me suffer," he said, patiently.
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