Anger made her stutter so much that only incoherent sounds proceeded from her toothless mouth.
"Hum!" muttered Nuncita as she twisted her lips into a sulky pout.
"Child, don't enrage me!" cried her elder sister.
"I don't want to, I don't want to," repeated the obstinate creature with decision.
And at the same time she dragged her reluctant feet into the other room.
But her sister immediately followed with the severest and most authoritative demeanour imaginable, prepared to correct that beginning of rebellion which in time might lead to most fatal consequences. A sound of dispute was heard, the sharp angry voice of Carmelita was raised, then it toned down, became more persuasive and reasoning, until it regained its normal suavity, as the echo of a sob reached the ears of the guests. Finally, at the end of some time, Carmelita reappeared with a slower step than her sister, with her eyes blazing with authority, and the majestic attitude befitting those who dictate laws to the beings Providence has confided to their care. "The child" came behind ashamed and submissive, with inflamed cheeks and tearful eyes. She reseated herself at the table without daring to raise her eyes to her elder sister, who still regarded her with a certain severity, humbly took up the cards, and began to play again. But instead of this touching example of respect and submission making a grave impression on the onlookers, it provoked a smile of amusement on almost all their faces, and there emanated from some of them inopportune bursts of laughter that were only repressed with difficulty.
Nevertheless the game did not last long. The hour approached for the select party to disperse.
"Maria Josefa, I saw your godchild at the promenade to-day," said Paco Gomez, as he absently shuffled the cards. "I gave it a kiss. She gets prettier every day. How old is it now?"
"You can calculate. We had it baptised in February. Two and a half months."
"Was it with its mother?" asked Manuel Antonio, smiling in a peculiar way.