“Habla usted Espanol?” inquired Joanne.
The child’s look of perplexity cleared; “Si, si, señorita,” she replied joyfully.
“What is the matter? Why were you crying?” inquired Joanne in Spanish.
The child poured forth an excited recital to which Joanne gave an understanding attention. When the tale was told she turned to the others. “It seems that she came out to pick blackberries. Suddenly the cows came. She thought they were after her, and ran into the thicket pell-mell to escape them. When she got over her fright she found herself so confused that she didn’t know which way to turn and wandered around getting more and more mixed up. She lives somewhere around here but hasn’t an idea in which direction. Her name is Mariquita Carriles.”
“We’d better take her along with us to the village,” decided Claudia; “they will know at the post-office all about her. You tell her to come with us and we’ll see that she gets home.”
Joanne turned to the little Mariquita who willingly joined the group, evidently glad to have their protection against the fearsome cows, sidling up very close to Joanne as they passed the creatures, and answering her questions unhesitatingly, if not very intelligently.
It was not more than half a mile to the village and they were soon there making their inquiries of the genial storekeeper, who was also postmaster. Oh, yes, he knew all about Carriles. He was working on Joel Sykes’s place, a very good man, from Cuba or some of those parts. He had been working for Joel all spring and had just brought his family up; they were living in the tenant house, reckoned they would stay all winter. Hard to get labor nowadays, and Joel thought himself very lucky, for this Carriles had a couple of big boys who weren’t above working.
“Is it far to Mr. Sykes’s?” asked Joanne.
“About half a mile beyond the cross roads,” answered the storekeeper.
Joanne consulted the other girls who were busy at the counter discussing the merits of various pieces of white goods.