"Evangelina?"
They nodded. "We love her. … She plays with us every day. … We want her to stay here. … She belongs to us."
Accustomed as they were to prompt compliance with their demands, they spoke imperiously; but they had never seen a frown like this upon their father's face, and at his refusal their voices grew squeaky with excitement and uncertainty.
"Go to your rooms, my sweethearts," Don Esteban directed, finally.
"We want Evangelina. She belongs to us," they chorused, stubbornly.
Don Pablo shook with laughter. "So! She belongs to you, eh? And I'm to be robbed of my winnings. Very well, then, come and give me a kiss, both of you, and I'll see what can be done."
But the children saw that Don Pablo's face was strangely flushed, that his eyes were wild and his magnificent beard was wet with wine; therefore they hung back.
"You won your bet fairly," Esteban growled at him. "Pay no heed to these babies."
"Evangelina is ours," the little ones bravely repeated.
Then their father exploded: "The devil! Am I dreaming? Where have you learned to oppose me? Back to your beds, both of you." Seeing them hesitate, he shouted for his wife. "Ho, there! Isabel, my love! Come put these imps to rest. Or must I teach them manners with my palm? A fine thing, truly! Are they to be allowed to roam the house at will and get a fever?"