"In de hill patch, Seño'it'."
"And did some one, perhaps, mix the wood ashes with them?"
Pablo turned to Eduardo Juan, open-mouthed, as if to say, "Did you?"
Agueda also turned to Eduardo Juan. "Well! well!" she exclaimed impatiently, "were the wood ashes mixed, then, with the cacao seeds?"
Eduardo Juan shifted from one foot to the other, looked away at the river, and said, "Ah did not ogsarve."
"You did not observe. Oh, dear! oh, dear! Why can you never do as the Señor tells you? What will become of the plantation if you do not obey what the Señor tells you?"
"Seño' ain' say nuttin'," said Eduardo Juan, with a sly smile.
Agueda looked away. "I am not speaking of the Señor. I mean the Señor Adan," said she. "You know that he has charge of all; that he had charge long before—come, then! let us go."
As Agueda descended the steps of the veranda, she heard Beltran's voice calling to her. She turned and looked back. Don Beltran was standing in the open door of the salon. His pleasant smile seemed to say that he had just been indulging in agreeable words, agreeable thoughts.