“Hush, little sister. Never fear. I am almost a man. I will take care of you.”
“Boys are not men; not even ‘almost’ men at twelve years. But—can they still see us from Refugio?”
Turning, the child looked back. The trees and shrubbery about the venerable home they loved quite hid it from sight and the fact made her suddenly sad, so that she cried:
“Suppose, just s’pose, we should never come back?”
“Pooh! don’t be silly, girlie. Course we’ll go back, soon as the ‘enemies’ go away,” answered Carlos stoutly, though he was secretly troubled by the same thought.
“What ever made them come?”
“Carlota! You told me that yourself: because they were just—‘enemies.’”
“‘Enemies’ are wicked people, and I don’t see how anybody could be wicked to our father. Do you, Carlos?”
“Oh! don’t ask so many questions. I am no older than you. I can’t answer them.”
“You often say you are much bigger, you were ‘almost a man’ a minute ago. Doesn’t Benoni travel splendidly?”