I had not the heart to rebuke her; she was so lovely in her ignorance. I could only smile indulgently, as I bade her enjoy the frock, which was to be her Christmas present.
"Dear, kind Señora," she exclaimed, passionately kissing my hand; "I will indeed be good! I will indeed learn fast."
"Very well," I replied, "if you are good I shall always be glad that I was able to please you. But come, dear child," I urged; "make haste, for the Doña Maria is calling. She will be deeply annoyed if we allow her supper to cool."
It was astonishing how quickly Mariposilla complied with my command. Her transformation appeared to occupy but a moment. And never was the awakening of an actual butterfly more surprising or triumphant.
Her joy in her enhanced beauty was rapturous and innocent. When we entered the living-room she hugged herself with delightful vanity as she approached the astonished Doña Maria.
"Am I not grand? Am I not beautiful?" she demanded. "Is not my dress more rich than the dresses in the green chest of my grandmother? Be happy with me, dear mother. Kiss thy child, and give her at last the little necklace of opals. See," she continued, coaxingly, peering into a mirror, "see how sweetly the necklace will lie against my throat; just as my beautiful Aunt Lola once wore it," she entreated in Spanish.
"Hush, foolish child," the Doña Maria commanded sternly; for at the first mention of the necklace the grandmother had shown ominous signs of dissatisfaction. When Mariposilla persistently mentioned the name of the dead Lola the old woman screamed angrily, growing each moment more excited, until the patient Doña Maria coaxed her gently from the room.
"I am so sorry," cried the penitent child, when the door closed upon the now shrieking and unmanageable Spanish woman. "I am so sorry that I compelled my grandmother to make a noise. She approves not of joy; and my mother, too, is often sad when I am happy; for she then thinks only of my dead father and the evil fortunes which have befallen us."
For answer, Mrs. Sanderson drew the unhappy girl within the charmed circle of her arms. With her soft, jeweled hands she clasped about her throat a pretty string of gold beads. "Say no more about the opal necklace," she said; "the little beads will do until you are older."