“Then in heaven there is also Quetzalcoatl. And what is in heaven is capable of coming back to earth. Don’t you believe me?”
“I can’t.”
“Then go unbelieving,” said the father, laughing at them and rising to leave them.
“It is very bad that they sing songs about you, and put mama in; like about Pancho Villa,” said the younger boy. “It hurts me very much.”
“Rub it with Vapor-rub, my pet,” said Ramón. “Rub it with Vapor-rub, where it hurts you.”
“What a real bad man you are, papa!”
“What a real good child are you, my son! Isn’t that so?”
“I don’t know, papa. I only know you are bad.”
“Oh! Oh! Is that all they teach thee at thy American school?”
“Next term,” said Ciprianito, “I want to change my name. I don’t want to be called Carrasco any more. When thou art in the newspapers, they will laugh at us.”