Inez laughed at him.
“She is witch-woman, I tell you. I know it! Look in her eyes, an’ see.”
The group of Mexicans moved uneasily. Old Miguel deliberately rolled a cigarette and lighted it.
“Thees woman I have not yet see,” he announced, after due reflection. “But, if she ees witch-woman, eet ees bad for Mees Jane to be near her.”
“That is what I say!” cried Inez eagerly. She spoke better English than the others. “She will bewitch my baby; she will make it sickly, so it will die!” And she wrung her hands in piteous misery.
The Mexicans exchanged frightened looks. Old Bella alone seemed unaffected.
“Mees Weld own her baby—not us,” suggested Miguel’s wife. “If Mees Weld theenk thees girl is safe nurse, what have we to say—eh?”
“I say she shall not kill my baby!” cried Inez fiercely. “That is what I say, Bella. Before she do that, I kill thees Meeldred Travers.”
Miguel examined the girl’s face intently.
“You are fool, Inez,” he asserted. “It ees bad to keel anything—even thees New York witch-woman. Be compose an’ keep watch. Nothing harm Mees Jane if you watch. Where are your folks, girl?”