"Si! si! si!" they cried.
Several started to unharness the horse. Others held out their hands.
After a moment's hesitation Nan accepted their aid and descended.
Keith's performance was evidently considered a great joke.
On the low veranda were two women, one most enormously fat, the other young and lithe. They were dressed almost exactly alike, their blue—black hair parted smoothly over their foreheads but built up to a high structure behind, filmy rebosas over high combs, and skirts with many flowered flounces. They both had soft, gentle eyes, and they were both so heavily powdered that their complexions were almost blue. All the men explained to them at once. The younger answered gayly; the older listened with entire placidity. But when the account was finished, she reached out to pat Nan's hand, and to smile reassuringly.
Various foods and a flask of red wine were brought. There was no constraint, for Keith threw himself with delighted abandon into experiments with sign language.
"Esta simpatica," the Californians told each other over and again.
Their manners were elaborate, dignified, deliberate, and beautiful. Keith, ordinarily rather direct and brusque, to Nan's great amusement became exactly like them. They outvied each other. The women touched smilingly the stuff of Nan's gown, and directly admired her various feminine trappings. She, thus encouraged, begged permission to examine more closely the lace of the rebosas or the beautiful embroidery on the shawls. A little feeling of intimacy drew them all together, although they understood no word of each other's language.
One of the dogs now approached and gravely laid its nose on Nan's knee, gazing up at her with searching soft eyes. The older woman cried out scandalized, but Nan shook her head, and patted the beast's nose.
"You like?" asked the woman.
"Why, you do talk English!" cried Nan.
But either these two words were all the woman had, or she was unwilling to adventure further.