“He shall never do that, so long as I’m here,” declared the young army man, with quiet confidence.
“I don’t think he will, either,” replied Robles. “I have given orders for him to be shot down,” he added grimly, “if he should dare to approach my gates. But I’ll count on you all the same as a second guard to the sanctity of my home.”
“You may count on me to the death,” responded Munson, extending his hand.
“I know it, and therefore I go away on a necessary duty with an easy mind. But I have good news for you, Munson. I have instructed Sing Ling to prepare luncheon for the ladies of La Siesta every day they choose to come. So, while I prefer you to remain here on guard while I am gone, you need not be lonely. Perhaps you’ll hardly wish me to come back again,” he added with a smile.
“Oh, don’t say that. But you’re mighty kind thinking of such things at all.”
“Well, you may expect our friends today about one o’clock. Now, goodbye—but not for long.”
The library work proceeded but slowly during the hours that followed. Munson was all impatience now for Grace and Merle to arrive. Books were of little account, for there was none ever printed that could rival for him the charm of a certain pair of laughing blue eyes. And it was a self-confessed pseudo man-of-letters who at last rushed to the gateway to greet the fair visitors.
“Mother couldn’t come,” cried Grace, as she jumped from her horse and flung the bridle to a Mexican groom. “She’s putting up fruit with Tia Teresa, and I think she really believes everything would go wrong if she didn’t superintend.”
Munson, as he led the girls through the arched gateway, was inclined to bless both the fruit and the fallacy.
Sing Ling came across the patio with a welcoming smile.