“Good morning, Señorita. The Señora sent me to serve you and help you about your bath. It is ready, yes, and the other señoritas have breakfasted and gone out, si. By my Lady’s orders you were not to be awakened till you roused yourself.”
“Oh! but I am sorry. I didn’t mean to do this, for I know one of Mr. Ford’s rules is early rising. I found that out at El Paraiso and—yes, yes, please do help me. But tell me, what shall I call you?”
“Anita, niña. Anita Mantez I am, from the dear City of the Angels, si. This way, carita, do not fear displeasure. They are all beloved, the fair young things, but you are nearest, dearest, so my Lady tells. For you will never be blamed, believe me.”
Dorothy made short work of her toilet and felt so refreshed by her night of sound sleep and her delightful morning bath, that the world outside seemed even lovelier than she remembered it. Also, she was hungry—so hungry! It was quite as Mr. Ford had said; that the mountain air made people almost ravenous, at first. Afterwards, one’s appetite sank to the normal and to be out and doing was the one great desire of life.
Anita led her to the refectory and served her with a dainty breakfast, disposed on exquisite “individual” dishes, and oddly enough, bearing the initial “D.” Dolly lifted a cup and stared at it, wondering while Anita glibly explained in her patois of Spanish-English, that yes, indeed, it was the Señorita’s own.
Dorothy’s heart was touched and grateful. Charming as her hosts were to all their guests, in many little ways they had singled her out as in this; and she understood without explanation from them that it was because of the part she had played in bringing together the once divided family. Very humbly and gravely she accepted these attentions, thankful in her deepest heart that she had been “inspired,” on that past winter day, to lead the father and son across the mesa to the little cabin where Gray Lady dwelt alone. It had been a daring thing to do—an “assisting Providence”—such as wise Aunt Betty wholly disapproved; but that time it had been a fortunate one for all concerned.
Now as the girl sipped her cocoa, turning the egg-shell like cup to catch the light, she wondered what she could still do to help her dear Gray Lady and to prove her own love. Then her dreaming was cut short by a hubbub of merry voices without, and, a moment later, a crowd of young folks tumbled through the big window, laughing, teasing, exhorting:
“Lazy girl! Just eating breakfast and it’s nearly time for lunch, seems if!”