‘Take her to wife,’ she said, ‘and you’ll not get a bad bargain. True, she is nought in the house, but she can spin. And with all her faults she is not a scold.’
‘One wants more in a wife than that!’ said the merchant shrewdly, though the last of her statements went far with him, since his mother had a tongue. Looking into Pepita’s eyes, which were heavenly blue, and sweet as an angel’s, he lost his last qualm of doubt, and lifted her hand to his lips. Then he turned once more to the elder woman. ‘I have vowed to my mother I will not wed without her free consent, but if your daughter meets with her approval, I will gladly do as you say.’
Guido’s mother was in her seventieth year, and though she had never beheld a face more winning than merry Pepita’s, it did not please her, and she gave her mind to finding a task which would prove beyond her powers.
‘The garden paths are green with weeds,’ she quavered; ‘they have been sadly neglected since Pietro fell ill. Take the hoe, and root them up; leave not a single one.’
‘Nay, mother! I seek not a gardener for my wife!’ her son protested hotly, for Pepita’s small hands could barely lift the hoe, and he had set his heart on her.
‘Unless the paths be clear of weeds ere the sun sets, I will not give thee my consent,’ said the old woman obstinately; and there was nothing left for Pepita to do but to hoe up the weeds as best she could.
No sooner had Guido’s mother ceased watching her from the window, than Pepita whistled gently, and swift at her call came the birds she had fed with crumbs when the fields were bare. Pointing to the weeds, she made signs to them to destroy them, and by the time the old mother awoke from her nap, not one was left behind. This vexed her instead of giving her pleasure, for she did not wish her son to marry, and telling her maids they might have a holiday, she commanded Pepita to prepare the evening meal.
The maiden was now in much perplexity, for she knew not how to cook, and her experience that morning with the pentola had taught her little. But the Brownies who dwelt behind the hearth, and love to see a fair young face bending over the pots and pans, bade her be not discouraged, for they would stand her friends.