"Hallo, Oncle Hennery," he greeted the old man in the wheel chair. "You look splendid! And 'allo, 'Red,'—zat's what zey call you—yes?" Then he saw the babies, and his eyes fairly popped from his head, "Well, well!" he cried, "Who 'ave zese leetle fellers!"
"They're not both fellers!" Angela made bold to say. "One's a girl—that one! She's mine!"
"Oh, ho! Leetle spitfire still!" Pancho laughed. He chucked her under her pretty chin. "So you marry ze man I pick for you, eh? Good! An' zis"—pointing to the baby—"zis ees better yet!"
"Look at mine!" the proud Lucia couldn't help saying. "Isn't he the image of his father?"
She held him up, and Lopez took his little hand in his. "Yes, I see what you mean," he said, carefully looking at the child. "Hees father's eyes—but not so much hair! What you call heem?"
"Guess!" said Gilbert.
"Could not," the Mexican answered.
"Only one guess!" Lucia begged.
"Could not t'ink," Lopez insisted.