And several times the gate clicked, and crunching steps came along the gravel, someone passed on the gravel walk, saluting her, going down to Juana’s quarters, where the dull light of a floating oil wick shone through the grated window-hole. Then there was a low, monotonous sound of a voice, reciting or reading. And as the wind blew and the lightning alighted again like a blue bird among the plants, there would come the sharp noise of the round cuentas falling from the cuenta tree.
Kate was uneasy and a bit forlorn. She felt something was happening down in the servants’ corner, something secret in the dark. And she was stranded in her isolation on her terrace.
But after all, it was her house, and she had a right to know what her own people were up to. She rose from her rocking chair and walked down the verandah and round the dining-room bay. The dining-room, which had its own two doors on the patio, was already locked up.
In the far corner beyond the well, she saw a group sitting on the ground, outside the doorway of Juana’s kitchen-hole. Out of this little kitchen-shed shone the light of the floating-wick lamp, and a voice was slowly intoning, all the faces were looking into the dim light, the women dark-hooded in rebozos, the men with their hats on, their sarapes over their shoulders.
When they heard Kate’s footsteps, the faces looked her way, and a voice murmured in warning. Juana struggled to her feet.
“It is the Niña!” she said. “Come, then, Niña, you poor innocent all alone in the evening.”
The men in the group rose to their feet—she recognized the young Ezequiel, taking his hat off to her. And there was Maria del Carmen, the bride. And inside the little shed, with the wick-lamp on the floor, was Julio, the bridegroom of a few weeks ago. Concha and little Maria were there, and a couple of strangers.
“I could hear the voice—” said Kate. “I didn’t know it was you, Julio. How do you do?—And I wondered so much what it was.”
There was a moment’s dead silence. Then Juana plunged in.
“Yes, Niña! Come! It’s very nice that you come. Concha, the chair for the Niña!”