"Such a clever, clever boy," said Miss Helen approvingly.
"A second Michael Angelo," laughed Mrs. Roberts.
"But," cried Jack, "Mr. St. Nick's nose isn't a bit red."
"But it says 'nose like a cherry,' in the Night before Christmas," Jean reminded her.
"Yes, but there are white cherries," objected Jack. She felt that perhaps Carter might be making fun of her dear old friend and she eyed the latter gentleman closely to see if his feelings were hurt by this effigy. On the contrary he chuckled each time he looked at the figure which he declared he would treasure as long as it lasted.
Through the arched and flower-decked streets they took their way home to finish the day by setting off the fireworks Carter had provided. Then they sang songs; so sandwiching songs with fireworks they passed the evening and when the odor of gunpowder had died away came the scent of orange-blossoms and roses to gladden their senses as they strolled home.
CHAPTER XI
THE TOMALE MAN
The Chinaman with his one horse cart had just been making his daily round. Nan had been watching Li Hung chaffering with his countryman for some of the fresh fruits and vegetables, and now that the bargain was closed and the cart had bobbed off down the street she had gone to their own little orange grove and was standing contemplatively regarding some white orange-blossoms above her head. She was still dreaming of a husband for the señorita. "It would be so handy to get orange blossoms for a bride," she told herself, "easier," she continued with a little chuckle, "than to get a husband. It is a great pity that Carter is so young and Mr. Pinckney is so old," she thought. She looked down between the rows of trees to the mountains rising in solemn dignity beyond. "I wonder how the people who used to live here feel about it," she went on to herself. "I should have hated to give it up. I shall feel sorry when we have to." Then her thoughts flew to another garden in old Virginia, mountain girt, too, but now lying white under winter snows and showing no sign of life except when a Molly Cottontail leaped to cover leaving small footprints behind her. Place o' Pines, her favorite haunt, seemed childish and small. All of her previous life was dwarfed beside the larger experience of her present. There was much to miss yet she missed nothing. California had cast its spell upon her. To her youth's eagerness for the new it unfolded a constantly expanding growth. Even the crowds in the streets seemed larger each day than the day before. To her romantic love of the old the ancient missions, the remains of the Spanish settlements appealed strongly. They filled her with a delight such as the old countries alone can afford the lover of poetry, history and art. She sighed because the days were passing all too quickly, because but a little time remained of their stay in Los Angeles. "We must move on like the Indians," said Nan regretfully, "and I don't half like it."
In the midst of her reveries, she suddenly remembered that she had not seen Jack for some time. She wondered where the child was. She had an indistinct recollection of hearing Jack announce that she meant to go find the tomale man. They had discovered him the last time they had been down town with Carter, and they had enjoyed the hot Mexican preparation so much that Jack declared she meant to go buy some herself some day. Could she have chosen to-day for the expedition into the town?