There was a moment’s silence. The younger boy continued to smile and finger his knife, but it was evident he was not so easy in his mind. The stranger, now with difficulty restraining his laughter, turned again to Mariposa and said:
“If the lady had been in any way aggressing on the young gentleman’s comfort or convenience, it would not have been exactly justifiable, but comprehensible. But when you consider that her sole desire was to save him from eating something that would make him sick, then you begin to realize the seriousness of the offense. Oh, Benito, you’re in a bad way, I’m afraid!”
“I ain’t nothing of the kind,” said Benito, smiling and showing his dimples. “I ain’t done nothing more than Miguel.”
“I didn’t tell her to go to the devil,” exclaimed Miguel, in a loud, combative voice.
“’Cause I said it first,” replied his brother, calmly. “You didn’t have time.”
“Well, Benito,” said Barron, “I’ve got no use for you when you behave that way. There’s no excuse for it. You’ve used the worst kind of language to a lady who was trying to do a decent thing. I won’t take you this afternoon.”
The change on Benito’s face was sudden and piteous. The smile was frozen on his lips, he turned crimson, and said stammeringly, evidently hardly believing his ears:
“To see the balloon? Oh, Uncle Gam, you promised it for a week. Oh, I’d rather see the balloon than anything. Oh, Uncle Gam!”
“There’s no use talking; I won’t take a boy who behaves that way. I’m angry with you.”
The man was absolutely grave and, Mariposa saw, spoke the truth when he said he was angry. The boy was about to plead, when probably a knowledge of the hopelessness of such a course silenced him. With a flushed face, he stood before the tribunal fighting with his tears, proud and silent. When he could no longer control them he turned and rushed into the house, his bursting sobs issuing from the hallway. Miguel charged after him.