"Are they quarreling?" whispered Anita to Rodrigo.
"No; they discuss, argue; that is all."
"It sounds as if they meant to tear each other to pieces," Anita turned to her mother.
"They are only excited, I think," Mrs. Beltrán decided.
At last, with a parting gesture, Doña Benilda closed the conference and returned saying: "It is as you prophesied, Prudencia; she is a difficult person. I had to use all my arguments to prove that our Cousin Catalina was not the wicked woman she supposed her to be. She now, though half-heartedly, consents to speak to her."
"I do not care how half-heartedly she looks upon me," said Mrs. Beltrán, rising, "if she but gives me news of my boy."
Anita, divided between a desire to hear what her uncle's widow had to tell, and a dread of encountering disagreeable remarks, hung back for a moment, but suddenly decided that she would not be a coward and ran forward to join her mother.
Silent and unyielding as the rock upon which she stood, Doña Pilar awaited them, greeted them distantly when they were presented, yet viewed them with curiosity. She did not take the initiative, but waited for Mrs. Beltrán to make her inquiries.
"I have been told," Mrs. Beltrán began, "that my son spent some years with you. I wish to thank you for your care of him."
There was no responsive interest in Pilar's expression. "I gave him care, yes, I will not deny that. A young child is troublesome, a boy especially."