“I think I said that the Darrells are not to be considered squatters nor called so by any Alamar, and I repeat that such is my wish. Moreover, not every settler is necessarily a squatter,” said Don Mariano.
“I beg pardon. I forgot that,” said Rosario.
“Don't do it again, Rosy Posy, don't,” said Victoriano, rising from the table, stroking his sister's back as if to pacify a fractious colt. Then going to a window, said: “Mercedes come here. Look at that; isn't that fountain lovely?”
In the front garden of the Darrell house, opposite to the front door and surrounded by flowers and choice plants, Clarence had erected a fountain which was to emit its numerous jets of chrystaline water for the first time, when his mother should drive up to the door. She had done so, and the fountain was sending upwards its jets of diamonds under the rays of the reflectors at the front door. The effect was pretty and brilliant. Clarence's filial love was sweetly expressed in the music of the fountain.
CHAPTER IX.—Clarence is the Bearer of Joyful News.
The Darrell family had been the happy dwellers of their fine house on the Alamar rancho for nearly two months, and the three Misses Holman had been the guests of the Alamar family for the same length of time, and now the month of September, 1872, had arrived.
The awnings at the east and south side of the front veranda were down, and in that deliciously cool place, the favorite resort of the Alamar ladies, they now sat with their guests—the Holmans—engaged in different kinds of fancy work, the greater portion of which was intended to be wedding presents for Elvira and Lizzie Mechlin, who were to be married in a few months.
Mercedes was the only one not at work. She was reclining on a hammock, reading.
“Arn't you going to work anything for the girls, Mercedes?” Rosario inquired.
“Which girls?” Mercedes asked, with her eyes fixed on her book.