A moment later mother and daughter were standing face to face in the hall.
“Where were you?” asked Doña Perfecta, in a severe voice, scrutinizing her daughter’s face closely.
“In the garden,” answered the girl, more dead than alive.
“In the garden at this hour? Rosario!”
“I was warm, I went to the window, my handkerchief dropped out, and I came down stairs for it!”
“Why didn’t you ask Librada to get it for you? Librada! Where is that girl? Has she fallen asleep too?”
Librada at last made her appearance. Her pale face revealed the consternation and the apprehension of the delinquent.
“What is this? Where were you?” asked her mistress, with terrible anger.
“Why, señora, I came down stairs to get the clothes out of the front room—and I fell asleep.”
“Every one here seems to have fallen asleep to-night. Some of you, I fancy, will not sleep in my house to-morrow night. Rosario, you may go.”