"Do you know, I rather like her," continued Bessie, raising on one elbow and stretching herself again with the delicious satisfaction of one who has slept soundly and well.
"And I hate her!" cried Blanch. And seizing Chiquita's dagger which lay on the table beside the tray, she plunged it viciously into an orange.
X
Things began to assume a more favorable aspect. Even Mrs. Forest had plucked up enough courage to venture beyond the confines of the Posada's garden.
Late one afternoon as she with Blanch and Bessie descended the veranda steps, preparatory to a stroll through the town, a horseman, dressed in the height of Mexican fashion, shot suddenly round the curve in the road at full gallop and drew rein before them, tossing the dust raised by his animal's hoofs into their faces.
Dust and a horse's nose thrust suddenly into Mrs. Forest's face could hardly improve a temper already strained to the breaking point.
"Are people beasts—mere cattle of the fields to be trampled upon by a horse?" she gasped, as soon as she had recovered sufficiently from her surprise.
"A thousand pardons—I did not see you!" replied the horseman, his English colored with a slight accent.
"What are people's eyes for?" returned Mrs. Forest, making no attempt to conceal her irritation.
"Mrs. Forest, I see you do not recognize me," answered the horseman, smiling and raising his broad-brimmed sombrero which partially concealed his features.