There was little envy among the other girls. Their eyes sparkled with good-nature as they kissed Prudencia and congratulated her. The older women patted the things approvingly; and, between religion, a donas to satisfy an angel, and prospective bliss, Prudencia was the happiest little bride-elect in all The Californias.
"Never were such smocks!" cried one of the girls. "Ay! he will make a good husband. That sign never fails."
"Thou must wear long, long trains now, my Prudencia, and be as stately as Chonita."
"Ay!" exclaimed Prudencia. Did not every gown already made have a train longer than herself?
"Thou needst never wear a mended stocking with all these to last thee for years," said another: never had silk stockings been brought to the Californias in sufficient plenty for the dancing feet of its daughters.
"I shall always mend my stockings," said Prudencia, "I myself."
"Yes," said one of the older women, "thou wilt be a good wife and waste nothing."
Valencia laid her arm about Chonita's waist. "I wish to meet Don Diego
Estenega," she said. "Wilt thou not present him to me?"
"Thou art very forward," said Chonita, coldly. "Canst thou not wait until he comes thy way?"
"No, my Chonita; I wish to meet him now. My curiosity devours me."