"Agueda," said Beltran, "bring my mother's cross here, will you? I want to show it to my cousin."
Agueda turned and came slowly up the steps again. She went at once to her own room and opened the drawer where the diamonds lay in their ancient case of velvet and leather. The key which opened this drawer hung with the household bunch at her waist. The drawer had not been opened for some time, and the key grated rustily in the lock. Agueda opened the drawer, took the familiar thing in her hand, and returning along the veranda, handed it to Beltran. Then she ran quickly down the steps to join the waiting peons. But Felisa's appreciative scream as the case was opened reached her, as well as the words which followed.
"And you let that girl take charge of such a magnificent thing as that! Why, cousin, it must mean a fortune."
"Who? Agueda?" said Beltran. "I would trust Agueda with all that I possess. Agueda knew my mother. She was here in my mother's time."
The motherly instinct, which is in the ascendant with most women, arose within the heart of Agueda.
"Come, Palandrez, come, Eduardo Juan," said she. They could hardly keep pace with her. If there was no one else to work for him while he dallied with his pretty cousin, she would see that his interests did not suffer.
"Why, then, do you not go up there in the cool of the evening, Palandrez? You could get an hour's work done easily after the sun goes behind the little rancho hill."
"It is scairt up deyah," said Palandrez. "De ghos' ob de ole Señora waak an' he waak. Ain' no one offer deyah suvvices up on de hill when it git 'long 'bout daak."
Agueda went swiftly toward the hill patch, the peons sulkily following her. They did not wish to obey, but they did not dare to rebel. Arrived at her destination, she turned to Pablo, who was in advance of Eduardo Juan.