Now, though Juan had often sat down in the kitchen, he had never before been invited to seat himself in this room. Wherefore, the warm smile that now met him, and went with the invitation, filled him with a more than mild surprise. Gingerly he perched himself on the edge of a chair, twirling his dusty sombrero round and round as a relief to his embarrassment.
"I am sorry, Juan, that you don't like me or trust me any longer," his mistress began.
"But, doña, I do," exclaimed the boy, nearly falling from his chair in amazement.
She shook her head.
"No; I can see you don't. None of you do. You keep secrets from me. You whisper and hide things."
"But, no, señorita——"
"Yes. I can see it plainly. My people do not love me. I must go away from them, since——"
Juan, having in his tender boyish heart a great love for his doña, could not stand this.
"No, no, no, señorita! It is not so. I do assure you it is a mistake. There is nothing about the cattle, nothing about the sheep you do not know. It is all told—all."
"Muy bien. Yet you conceal what happened yesterday to Pedro."