Say! that hit her right, I tell y’! But I had to go put my foot in it, a-course. “Yas, you,” I goes on. “Mebbe you noticed Boston’s here pretty frequent?”
“Si! si! si! señor!”
“That’s ’cause he’s been studyin’ you–so’s he could use you fer a book character.”
“So!” she said. “That is it! that is why!” Mad? Golly! Them black eyes of hern just snapped, and she grabbed a hunk of bread and begun knifin’ it.
“Wal,” I says, “you don’t seem t’ ketch on to the fact that you been handed out a blamed big compliment. A person in a book is some potatoes.”
“No! no! señor!”
Pride hurt, I says to myself. “Now, Carlota,” I begun, “don’t cut off you’ nose t’ spite you’ face. Pedro Garcia is turrible tickled that we ast him.”
“Pedro–puf!”
“In the book,” I goes on, “he’s the bad man that loves you so much he cain’t help stealin’ you.”
“I hate Pedro,” she says. “He is like that–bad.”