So, chattering easily together as though they had been friends for years, the four young people reached the house. On one of the verandas that surrounded the inner court the lunch table had been set out, and here the Señora awaited them.
“You are late,” she said, in her soft, slow voice, “I hope you have enjoyed the walk you have had. Sit down, and we will eat our refreshments before it grows too warm for comfort.”
They ate the delicious Mexican dishes in silence, for the Señora did not encourage talking. She spoke a gracious word every now and then, to be sure, but to the girls she seemed to be thinking of something far off! There was a gloom around the Señora that reached the hearts of all who came near her. They were glad when the luncheon was over, and they were left to themselves, the Señora retiring into her own room.
It was a thrilling thing to watch the sheep being penned, for that is where Ramona and Felipe took the girls that afternoon. Wherever they went there was a greeting and a smile for Ramona, who seemed sunshine itself. Not a shepherd but called to her, not a maid but came to her for a word. As the sheep were crowded into the pens, with much laughter from the men and a deal of excited shouting, and with endless bleating by the frightened animals, new flocks coming in all the time from the hills and meadows, it seemed to Rose and Ruth that the world had fairly turned into sheep.
“What heaps and heaps!” exclaimed Ruth. “Ramona, I think sheep are more fun than cattle, after all. Only I wouldn’t dare say that at home.”
“No, they haven’t any use for sheep out our way,” Rose agreed. “Oh, see them coming in there! And look at Felipe!”
For Felipe was everywhere, ordering this man, helping that one, laughing, shouting. Now he came running toward the girls.
“We shall have a splendid yield this year, I feel sure,” he cried. “The sheep are in fine condition, and have grown fat. And what a number of lambs! Juan says it will be the best season we have had in years.”
The sun was setting as the last of the sheep were driven into the pens. A cool breeze blew in from the west, sweet with innumerable perfumes, and in the trees the mocking birds began to sing, while huge fireflies flew diamond-bright over the fields and among the branches of the trees. Ramona slipped her arms affectionately round Rose and Ruth.
“This has been a happy day,” she whispered. “And it is good to know that the Indian is now safely away beyond the hills.”