The girl’s eyes danced. “Oh!” she exclaimed, “am I to wear that? How beautiful! Did Mrs. Reed give it to me? And is there a party down stairs?”
The woman returned no answer, but opened a bureau drawer and took from it several other garments, which she threw upon a chair, together with the dress.
“Into the whole lot of ’em,” she said sharply, indicating the garments. “And move lively, for supper’s waitin’ and there’ll be callers soon––gentlemen callers,” she added, smiling grimly.
She turned and faced Carmen. Their eyes met. The woman stopped abruptly and stood with arms akimbo, regarding the girl. Carmen gazed up at her with a smile of happy, trustful assurance.
The woman was the first to speak. “Where did you come from?” she demanded hoarsely.
Carmen told her. She mentioned Simití, Padre Josè, and Rosendo. Her voice quavered a little; but she brightened up and concluded: “And Mr. Reed’s Auntie, she met us––that is, me. Oh, isn’t she a beautiful lady!”
The woman seemed to be fascinated by the child’s gaze. Then, suddenly, as if something had given way under great strain, she cried: “For God’s sake, don’t look at me that way! Who are you?” She dropped into a chair and continued to stare at the girl.
“Well, I’ve told you,” replied Carmen. “But,” she continued, going quickly to the woman and taking her hand, “you haven’t told me your name yet. And we are going to be such good friends, aren’t we? Yes, we are. And you are going to tell me all about this beautiful house, and that wonderful carriage I came here in. What did make it go, anyway? Do you ride often? Oh, I hope Mrs. Reed will take me out in it every day!”
The woman’s hand tightened over Carmen’s. She seemed to struggle with herself. Then, in a low voice: