"I have come to you because you are in trouble," she said. "I, too, am in trouble. Ay, my Faquita!"
The old woman put up her arms and drew the girl down to her lap. She had never touched her idol before, but sorrow levels even social barriers.
"Pobrecita!" she said, and the girl cried softly on her shoulder.
"Will he come back, Faquita?"
"Surely, niñita. No man could forget you."
"But it is so far."
"Think of what Don Vicente do for Doña Ysabel, mijita."
"But he is an American. Oh, no, it is not that I doubt him. He loves me!
It is so far, like another world. And the ocean is so big and cruel."
"We ask the priest to say a mass."
"Ah, my Faquita! I will go to the church to-morrow morning. How glad I am that I came to thee." She kissed the old woman warmly, and for the moment Faquita forgot her trouble.