“Only Mexicans, except for the Chinese cook,” replied Arthur. “It is impossible to get American help and the Japs I won’t have. Some of the ranch hands have been on the place for years, but the house servants I hired after I come here.”
“A lazy lot, eh?” suggested the major.
“Quite right, sir. But I find them faithful and easy to manage. You will notice that I keep two or three times as many house servants as a similar establishment would require in the east; but they are content with much smaller wages. It’s the same way on the ranch. Yet without the Mexicans the help problem would be a serious one out here.”
“Does the ranch pay?” asked Mr. Merrick.
“I haven’t been here long enough to find out,” answered Arthur, with a smile. “So far, I’ve done all the paying. We shall harvest a big orange crop next month, and in time the olives will mature; but I’ve an idea the expenses will eat up the receipts, by the end of the year.”
“No money in a California ranch, eh?”
“Why, some of my neighbors are making fortunes, I hear; but they are experienced ranchers. On the other hand, my next neighbor at the north is nearly bankrupt, because he’s a greenhorn from the east. Some time, when I’ve learned the game, I hope to make this place something more than a plaything.”
“You’ll stay here, then?” asked the major, with astonishment. “It’s the most delightful country on earth, for a residence. You’ll admit that, sir, when you know it better.”
Meantime the baggage wagon arrived and Patsy and Beth, having picked out their rooms, began to unpack and “settle” in their new quarters.
CHAPTER IV – LITTLE JANE’S TWO NURSES
Louise had been considerably puzzled to account for the presence of the strange girl in Uncle John’s party. At first she did not know whether to receive Mildred Travers as an equal or a dependent. Not until the three nieces were seated together in Louise’s own room, exchanging girlish confidences, was Mildred’s status clearly defined to the young mother.
“You see,” explained Patsy, “Uncle John was dreadfully worried over the baby. When you wrote of that terrible time the dear little one had with the colic, and how you were dependent on a Mexican girl who fed the innocent lamb some horrid hot stuff, Uncle declared it was a shame to imperil such a precious life, and that you must have a thoroughly competent nurse.”
“But,” said Louise, quite bewildered, “I’m afraid you don’t understand that – ”
“And so,” broke in Beth, “I told him I knew of a perfect jewel of a trained nurse, who knows as much as most doctors and could guard the baby from a thousand dangers. I’d watched her care for one of our poor girls who was knocked down by an automobile and badly injured, and Mildred was so skillful and sympathetic that she quite won my heart. I wasn’t sure, at first, she’d come way out to California, to stay, but when I broached the subject she cried out: ‘Thank heaven!’ in such a heart-felt, joyous tone that I was greatly relieved. So we brought her along, and – ”
“Really, Beth, I don’t need her,” protested Louise. “The Mexicans are considered the best nurses in the world, and Inez is perfectly devoted to baby and worships her most sinfully. I got her from a woman who formerly employed her as a nurse and she gave Inez a splendid recommendation. Both Arthur and I believe she saved baby’s life by her prompt action when the colic caught her.”
“But the hot stuff!” cried Patsy.
“It might have ruined baby’s stomach for life,” asserted Beth.
“No; it’s a simple Mexican remedy that is very efficient. Perhaps, in my anxiety, I wrote more forcibly than the occasion justified,” admitted Louise; “but I have every confidence in Inez.”
The girls were really dismayed and frankly displayed their chagrin. Louise laughed at them.
“Never mind,” she said; “it’s just one of dear Uncle John’s blunders in trying to be good to me; so let’s endeavor to wiggle out of the hole as gracefully as possible.”
“I don’t see how you’ll do it,” confessed Patsy. “Here’s Mildred, permanently engaged and all expenses paid.”
“She is really a superior person, as you’ll presently discover,” added Beth. “I’ve never dared question her as to her family history, but I venture to say she is well born and with just as good antecedents as we have – perhaps better.”
“She’s very quiet and undemonstrative,” said Patsy musingly.
“Naturally, being a trained nurse. I liked her face,” said Louise, “but her eyes puzzle me.”
“They are her one unfortunate feature,” Beth agreed.
“They’re cold,” said Patsy; “that’s the trouble. You never get into her eyes, somehow. They repel you.”
“I never look at them,” said Beth. “Her mouth is sweet and sensitive and her facial expression pleasant. She moves as gracefully and silently as – as – ”
“As a cat,” suggested Patsy.
“And she is acquainted with all the modern methods of nursing, although she’s done a lot of hospital work, too.”
“Well,” said Louise, reflectively, “I’ll talk it over with Arthur and see what we can do. Perhaps baby needs two nurses. We can’t discharge Inez, for Toodlums is even more contented with her than with me; but I admit it will be a satisfaction to have so thoroughly competent a nurse as Miss Travers at hand in case of emergency. And, above all else, I don’t want to hurt dear Uncle John’s feelings.”
She did talk it over with Arthur, an hour later, and her boy husband declared he had “sized up the situation” the moment he laid eyes on Mildred at the depot. They owed a lot to Uncle John, he added, and the most graceful thing they could do, under the circumstances, was to instal Miss Travers as head nurse and retain Inez as her assistant.
“The chances are,” said Arthur laughingly, “that the Mexican girl will have most of the care of Toodlums, as she does now, while the superior will remain content to advise Inez and keep a general supervision over the nursery. So fix it up that way, Louise, and everybody will be happy.”
Uncle John was thanked so heartily for his thoughtfulness by the young couple that his kindly face glowed with satisfaction, and then Louise began the task of reconciling the two nurses to the proposed arrangement and defining the duties of each. Mildred Travers inclined her head graciously and said it was an admirable arrangement and quite satisfactory to her. But Inez listened sullenly and her dark eyes glowed with resentment.
“You not trust me more, then?” she added.
“Oh, yes, Inez; we trust you as much as ever,” Louise assured her.
“Then why you hire this strange woman?”
“She is a present to us, from my Uncle John, who came this morning. He didn’t know you were here, you see, or he would not have brought her.”
Inez remained unmollified.
“Miss Travers is a very skillful baby doctor,” continued Louise, “and she can mend broken bones, cure diseases and make the sick well.”
Inez nodded.
“I know. A witch-woman,” she said in a whisper. “You can trust me señora, but you cannot trust her. No witch-woman can be trusted.”
Louise smiled but thought best not to argue the point farther. Inez went back to the nursery hugging Toodlums as jealously as if she feared some one would snatch the little one from her arms.
Next morning Mildred said to Beth, in whom she confided most:
“The Mexican girl does not like me. She is devotedly attached to the baby and fears I will supplant her.”
“That is true,” admitted Beth, who had conceived the same idea; “but you mustn’t mind her, Mildred. The poor thing’s only half civilized and doesn’t understand our ways very well. What do you think of little Jane?”
“I never knew a sweeter, healthier or more contented baby. She smiles and sleeps perpetually and seems thoroughly wholesome. Were she to remain in her present robust condition there would be little need of my services, I assure you. But – ”
“But what?” asked Beth anxiously, as the nurse hesitated.
“All babies have their ills, and little Jane cannot escape them. The rainy season is approaching and dampness is trying to infants. There will be months of moisture, and then – I shall be needed.”
“Have you been in California before?” asked Beth, impressed by Mildred’s positive assertion.
The girl hesitated a moment, looking down.