"Doña Fernandez!" said Chiquita sharply rising from the bench with an ominous look in her eyes.
"Foolish child," Señora went on without heeding her, "to imagine that some day your hands will be white like a lady's! I suppose you have nothing further to do to-day but to pick flowers?" she added, pausing for breath.
"I have never worried about my color, Doña Fernandez," replied Chiquita indignantly. "Indeed, I sometimes think it holds its own better than that of some persons I might mention."
"Holy Mother! how your tongue runs on! Am I not to be allowed to say anything? Oh, you do not deceive me! I saw you give him the rose as I came here. If he's sensible, he'll throw it away."
Chiquita laughed derisively. "Perhaps it is well for the world that all people are not so sensible as you are, Doña Fernandez," and her fan closed with a sudden snap. "So this is the advice you came to give me, Doña Fernandez? How very considerate of you!"
Her words recalled the Señora to the purpose of her coming. For some time she paced up and down before Chiquita without replying. Then stopping and facing her, and watching closely for the effect her words would have upon her, she said: "I came to tell you—that Don Felipe Ramirez has returned."
Chiquita started. "Don Felipe here?"
"Aye. He's stopping at my house, and I came to warn you that perhaps it would be well to be cautious and exercise a little more self-control than is your wont when in his and Capitan Forest's presence."
The Señora was satisfied with her morning's work; her words had had their effect. Besides, had she not had her say—unburdened her soul of many things which she had long been dying to give utterance to? All things considered she had scored.
"Á Dios, Señorita," she added sarcastically, her black eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction as with mock courtesy she bowed and turned, leaving Chiquita silent and motionless, her eyes cast on the ground and lost in thought.