“San Cristóbal failed you for a few minutes this evening, didn't he? But he's going to make up for it now,” she said. “And I'm going to see him do it, if it takes all night.”
In vain did the Cherub try to persuade her that it would be well to let him escort her home, as the experiment would be a [pg 135]long affair. Nobody seconded his efforts, and, if they had, ten chances against one that Pilarcita would have listened. Never, in all her life, said she, had she known anything like the excitements of the last few days, and it was too probable that she never would again.
With this, she climbed into her old place in my Gloria's tonneau, her bright eyes bewitching in the uncertain yellow light; and enchanted with the prospect of retaining her society, Don Cipriano proposed a feast. He would not listen to discussions, but rushed the bewildered watchman off to a neighbouring restaurant, whence a waiter appeared with the speed of magic. Supper was ordered; chicken, salad, champagne, all that could be found of the best; and dulces for the señorita.
While Ropes and I worked as if for a wager, a swarm of amused waiters came buzzing about the garage, bringing chairs, a table, clattering dishes, clinking knives and forks, and silver pails wherein tinkled ice embedding gold-labelled bottles.
Ropes is unrivalled as a mechanic, and I am not unhandy with tools, so that between us, under the inspiration of Pilar's bright eyes and sayings, we had the pinions out of Don Cipriano's car by the time the champagne was cold. Then, while corks were popping, the great experiment was tried. “A fit! a fit!” I exclaimed, and joyously we drank to the health of the two Glorias.
Such tips as they got that night, those waiters and that watchman could never have seen. No doubt they thought us mad, and perhaps we were; but it was partly the fault of San Cristóbal.