"Yes, ma'am. He fell ill a couple of weeks ago after being in an accident, took a bad turn of a sudden and sent for me, said that there wasn't any one nearer. He handed me over his papers and I learned from them that his name was Joseph Middleton. His father was a well off man at one time but I fancy he wasn't always just straight in business affairs. Jo was pretty wild in his young days and got into some scrapes. Fought with his brother-in-law, a sort of duel, I should judge, cut him up pretty badly and had to get out and leave his wife at her father's."
"I knew his right name couldn't be Poker," said Mary Lee listening eagerly to the story. "What did they fight about, Mr. Sanders?"
"Well, it seems that old Middleton bought a piece of property from a Mexican, or Spaniard, Jo calls him, who thought afterward that there hadn't been fair dealing and was bitter against the whole Middleton family. Jo fell in love with the daughter and she with him then, as he wasn't one to give up a thing, he wanted, he ran off with her and married her secretly. The brother caught him coming to the house two or three times after he had been forbidden the place, and they had it hot and heavy. The brother charged Jo with all sorts of things and went for him. Jo didn't stand still and the up-shot was that the brother got the worst of it, so while he was lying between life and death Jo had to skip. The father was fiercer than ever against Jo and the young wife was kept close as a nun. She lived only a short time and left a little girl that she called Pepita."
"Pepita," exclaimed Mary Lee. "That was the name of Miss Dolores' cousin."
"It's quite a name among the Spanish, I believe," Mr. Sanders told her. "It's the same as our Josephine."
"Oh, that's why she gave her baby the name; it is the nearest she could get to calling it after her husband, poor thing."
"I haven't a doubt of it. She probably called him Pepé; that's the Spanish for Jo. Well, old Middleton took to drinking, went through his money and Jo got reckless, too, after he heard that his wife was dead, so he never settled down anywhere. Lived just like you know, Miss Mary, as I was telling you there at home. Never went back to claim his little girl it seems, because he felt he couldn't be any benefit to her, and she had a good home with her mother's people. Now he's gone, and I am sorry, for I liked the man, though folks did say hard things of him. He is about the last link to those old days when I was a youngster and first came out to this country. Most of the old crowd are dead or scattered; I don't know which. I couldn't put my finger on another if I tried."
"You say this Joseph Middleton was talked about," said Mrs. Corner. "Was he then a bad man?"
"Well, ma'am, I shouldn't call him bad exactly. He was his own worst enemy: I never knew him to harm any one but that brother of his wife's and he wouldn't have touched him if he'd been let alone. He was always good to animals and children and was always a gentleman to the women. I've seen worse men that had a better name, so I say he was more sinned against than sinning. This here envelope he asked me to hand you," Mr. Sanders went on turning to Mary Lee. "He said it had his good-bye message to you in it."
"I don't think I will read it now," said Mary Lee trembling a little as she took the note. It seemed so strange that the kindly man who played to the birds and beasts, who was so alive to things of this earth, should no longer be of this world. Mary Lee held the note closely. "It was very kind of him to want to bid me good-bye," she said, "and kind of you to bring me the message. He used to say that if he should ever find his daughter and if he were able to claim her he would like her to be like me, fond of animals and woodsy things. I think that is why he wrote to me."