Aunt Jane's Nieces on the Ranch

“They will hunt in the wall, to-morrow, to find the lace,” she replied. “Meest Weldon say for you to come to the house at nine o’clock, in morning, to help them.”

“Meest Weld say that?”

“Yes. But we have search already – Meeldred an’ me – an’ Meest Bul-Run have search, an’ no lace is there. I am sure of that. I am sure no money is there, too. So Meeldred mus’ stay as nurse all her life an’ help me take care of Mees Jane.”

Miguel pondered this.

“B’m’by Mees Jane grow up,” said he. “What can Leighton’s daughter do then?”

“How can I tell that?” answered Inez, shaking her head. “Always poor people mus’ work, Miguel. Is it not so?”

“Rich people mus’ work, too,” continued the Mexican girl dreamily, as she embraced her drawn-up legs and rested her chin upon her knees. “Was old Señor Cristoval more happy than we, with all the money he loved? No! Meest Weldon works; Meest Hahn works; even Meest Bul-Run works – sometime. If one does not work, one is not happy, Miguel; an’ if one mus’ work, money makes not any difference. So, when Meeldred find she is still poor, an’ has no money an’ no laces, like she hope for, she will work jus’ the same as ever, an’ be happy.”

“I, too, work,” remarked the old man. “I have always work.”

“If you had much money, Miguel, you would still work.”

“Yes.”

“You would not care for money; not you. It would not do you any good. It would not change your life.”

“No.”

Again they sat in silence, as if reflecting on this primitive philosophy. Finally Inez said:

“You remember Leighton, Miguel?”

“Yes. He was good man. He make much money for Señor Cristoval an’ for heemself. Sometime I see them count gold – ten pieces to Señor Cristoval, ten pieces to Leighton – to divide even. Then Leighton will throw me a gold-piece an’ say: ‘That for you, Miguel, because you are faithful an’ true.’”

“An’ Señor Cristoval, did he throw the gold-piece to you, also?”

“No.”

“What did you do with the gold Leighton give you, Miguel?”

The old man shrugged his shoulders. “Tobacco. Some wine. A game of card.”

“An’ were you faithful an’ true, as Leighton say?”

He looked at her long and steadily.

“What you theenk about that, Inez?”

“When people talk about Miguel Zaloa, they always say he is good man. I hear Meest Weldon say: ‘Miguel is honest. I would trust Miguel with all I have.’”

“Meest Weld say that?”

“Yes.”

“Well?”

“I think you are sometime honest, sometime not; like I am myself,” replied the girl.

The old man rose and led the way back to the path.

“To be always honest is to be sometime foolish,” he muttered on the way. “Tell Meest Weld I will be there, like he say, at nine o’clock.”

CHAPTER XX – MR. RUNYON’S DISCOVERY

Sing Fing excelled himself at the dinner that evening, which was a merry meal because all dangers and worries seemed to belong to the past. Also it was, as Uncle John feelingly remarked, “the first square meal they had enjoyed since the one at Castro’s restaurant.” Of course Runyon stayed, because he was to help search the wall the next day, and as the telephone had been repaired Louise called up Rudolph and Helen Hahn and begged them to drive over and help them celebrate at the festive board.

So the Hahns came – although they returned home again in the late evening – and it was really a joyous and happy occasion. Inez brought in the baby, which crowed jubilantly and submitted to so many kisses that Patsy declared she was afraid they would wear the skin off Toodlum’s chubby cheeks unless they desisted.

Mildred had gone to her room immediately after her confession in the court and Louise had respected her desire for privacy and had ordered her dinner sent in to her.

As they all sat in the library, after dining, in a cosy circle around the grate fire, they conversed seriously on Mildred Leighton and canvassed her past history and future prospects.

“I cannot see,” said Beth, always the nurse’s champion, “that we are called upon to condemn poor Mildred because her father was a criminal.”

“Of course not,” agreed Patsy, “the poor child wasn’t to blame.”

“These criminal tendencies,” remarked the major gravely, “are sometimes hereditary.”

“Oh, but that’s nonsense!” declared Uncle John. “We can’t imagine Mildred’s becoming a smuggler – or smuggleress, or whatever you call it. That hard, cold look in her eyes, which we all so thoughtlessly condemned, was merely an indication of suffering, of hurt pride and shame for the disgrace that had been thrust upon her. I liked the girl better to-day, as with blazing cheeks she told of all her grief and struggles, than ever before since I knew her.”

“The expression of the eye,” said Arthur, “is usually considered an infallible indication of character.”

“That’s a foolish prejudice,” asserted Patsy, whose own frank and brilliant eyes were her chief attraction.

“I do not think so, dear,” objected Louise. “The eyes may not truly indicate character, but they surely indicate one’s state of mind. We did not read the hard look in Mildred’s eyes correctly, I admit, but it showed her to be on guard against the world’s criticism, resentful of her hard fate and hopeless in her longing for a respectable social position. She realized that were her story known she would meet with sneers and jeers on every side, and therefore she proudly held herself aloof.”

“But now,” said Patsy, “circumstances have changed Mildred’s viewpoint. She found that our knowledge of her story only brought her sympathy and consideration, and when she left us I noticed that her eyes were soft and grateful and full of tears.”

Big Runyon had listened to this conversation rather uneasily and with evident disapproval. Now he said, in as positive a tone as his unfortunate voice would permit:

“That girl’s a corker, and I’m proud of her. In the first place, my mother is a shrewd judge of character. You can’t fool her about a person’s worth; just see how accurately she judged mycharacter! When the dear old lady – whose only fault is being so close-fisted – picked up Mildred Leighton and defended her, that act vouched for the girl’s worth beyond dispute. Mrs. Runyon – bless her stingy old heart! – never makes a mistake. Just think of it: she actually spent money in giving Mildred an education as a trained nurse. To my mind that settled the girl’s character for all time. Now, I don’t care a continental whether she finds any smuggled laces or not; she needs a friend, and now that she is away from my mother’s care I’mgoing to be that friend.”

“Oh, Bul!” cried Louise with lively interest, “are you in love?”

“Me? At my age? Cer-tain-ly not!”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty.”

“Old enough to know better,” said Uncle John.

“Old enough to need a wife to care for him,” suggested Helen Hahn.