But Mariedetta was not offended. Instead she smiled over her shoulder as she had smiled at her lover an instant before.
"Me like you fine. You like pie?" Joy nodded toward the door to the culinary department, as if to make free of his hospitality, at the instant that Carara, who had circled the building, came into view from the opposite side, a fresh cigarette between his lips. His languor vanished at the first glimpse of the scene, and he strode toward the white-clad Celestial, who dove through the open door like a prairie dog into its hole. Carara followed at his heels.
"It serves him right!" cried Miss Blake, rising. "I hope Mr.
Carara—"
A din of falling pots and pans issued from the cook-house, mingled with shrill cries and soft Spanish imprecations; then, with one long-drawn wail, the pandemonium ceased as suddenly as it had commenced, and Carara issued forth, black with anger.
"Ha!" said he, scowling at Mariedetta, who had retreated, her hand upon her bosom. He exhaled a lungful of cigarette smoke through his nostrils fiercely. "You play wit' me, eh?"
"No! no!" Mariedetta ran to him, and, seizing his arm, cooed amorously in Spanish.
"Bah! Vamos!" Carara flung her from him, and stalked away.
"Well, of all the outrageous things!" said Miss Blake. "Why, she was actually flirting with that Chinaman."
"Mariedetta flirts with every man she can find," said Jean, calmly, "but she doesn't mean any harm. She'll marry Carara some time—if he doesn't kill her."
"Kill her!" Miss Blake's eyes were round. "He wouldn't do that!"