Walter and Alejandro were by this time conversing like old friends. But the day was wearing on. Mauricio reminded them that there was considerable traveling to be done before sundown, and they were compelled to say good-by. In the few moments' intercourse they had had the Pages were charmed with the Señora and her grandchildren. She promised to call at their home in the city in October, when she expected to make her usual yearly trip.
"Will you not come to the Springs for a day before returning to town?" asked Mrs. Page. "We could manage to entertain you pleasantly, and even put you up for the night."
A slight change passed over the Señora's countenance.
"I thank you very much," she replied. "I do not go there—I do not like the place; but we shall soon meet again. With friends of the Gordons we must be friends."
"What charming persons," remarked Aunt Mary as they drove on. "If all the old Spanish families were like this one, I do not wonder that poets and story-writers lament their passing away."
"Many are like them," rejoined Mauricio. "The Señora has done much good in her time. Once they were a very rich family."
"How very dark the girl and boy are," said Mrs. Page.
"The boy, mother—the boy looks like Francisco. Don't you think so, Mauricio?" asked Walter.
"I have never thought of it," the Indian replied. Francisco said nothing.