"Ah, Mariquita," she said, "the linen is not as fine as when we were young. And thou art glad to get the shirts of the Americans now. My poor Faquita!"
"Coarse things," said Mariquita, disdainfully. Then a silence fell, so sudden and so suggestive that Doña Herminia felt it and turned instinctively to Mariquita.
"What is it?" she asked rapidly. "Is there news to-day? Of what?"
Mariquita's honest face was grave and important.
"There is news, señorita," she said.
"What is it?"
The washing-women had dropped back from the tubs and were listening intently.
"Ay!" The oracle drew a long breath. "There is war over there, you know, señorita," she said, making a vague gesture toward the Atlantic states.
"Yes, I know. Is it decided? Is the North or the South victorious? I am glad that the wash-tub mail has not—"
"It is not that, señorita."