gardens and beds of flowers in wonderful variety.
It was here that the last Señor Cristoval had brought his young bride, a lady of Madrid who was reputed to have possessed great beauty; but seclusion in this retired spot, then much isolated, rendered her so unhappy that she became mentally unbalanced and in a fit of depression took her own life. Cristoval, until then a generous and noble man, was completely changed by this catastrophe. During the remainder of his life he was noted for parsimony and greed for money, not unmixed with cruelty. He worked his ignorant Indian and Mexican servants mercilessly, denying them proper food or wage, and his death was a relief to all. Afterward the big estate was cut up and passed into various hands. Three hundred acres of fine orange and olive groves, including the spacious mansion, were finally sold to young Arthur Weldon.
“It’s an awfully big place,” said Louise, as the party alighted and stood upon the broad stone veranda, “but it is so quaint and charming that I love every stick and stone of it.”
“The baby!” shrieked Patsy.
“Where’s that blessed baby?” cried Beth.
Then came from the house a dusky maid bearing in her arms a soft, fluffy bundle that was instantly pounced upon by the two girls, to Uncle John’s horror and dismay.
“Be careful, there!” he called. “You’ll smother the poor thing.” But Louise laughed and regarded the scene delightedly. And little Jane seemed to appreciate the importance of the occasion, for she waved her tiny hands and cooed a welcome to her two new aunties.
CHAPTER III – THAT BLESSED BABY!
“Oh, you darling!”
“It’s my turn, Patsy! Don’t be selfish. Let me kiss her again.”
“That’s enough, Beth. Here – give me my niece!”
“She’s mine, too.”
“Give me that baby! There; you’ve made her cry.”
“I haven’t; she’s laughing because I kissed her wee nose.”
“Isn’t she a dear, though?”
“Now, girls,” suggested Louise, “suppose we give Uncle John and the major a peep at her.”
Reluctantly the bundle was abandoned to its mother, who carried it to where Mr. Merrick was nervously standing. “Yes, yes,” he said, touching one cheek gently with the tip of his finger. “It – it’s a fine child, Louise; really a – a – creditable child. But – eh – isn’t it rather – soft?”
“Of course, Uncle John. All babies are soft. Aren’t you going to kiss little Jane?”
“It – won’t – hurt it?”
“Not a bit. Haven’t Beth and Patsy nearly kissed its skin off?”
“Babies,” asserted Major Doyle, stiffly, “were made to be kissed. Anyhow, that’s the penalty they pay for being born helpless.” And with this he kissed little Jane on both cheeks with evident satisfaction.
This bravado encouraged Uncle John to do likewise, but after the operation he looked sheepish and awkward, as if he felt that he had taken an unfair advantage of the wee lady.
“She seems very red, Louise,” he remarked, to cover his embarrassment.
“Oh, no, Uncle! Everyone says she’s the whitest baby of her age they ever saw. She’s only five months old, remember.”
“Dear me; how very young.”
“But she’s getting older every day,” said Arthur, coming in from the garage. “What do you folks think of her, anyhow?”
The rhapsodies were fairly bewildering, yet very pleasant to the young father and mother. While they continued, Mildred Travers quietly took the child from Louise and tenderly bent over it. Only the major noted the little scene that ensued.
The eyes of the dark-skinned Mexican girl flashed sudden fire. She pulled Mildred’s sleeve and then fell back discomfited as the cold, fathomless eyes of the trained nurse met her own. For an instant the girl stood irresolute; then with a quick, unexpected motion she tore the infant from Mildred’s arms and rushed into the house with it.
Arthur, noticing this last action, laughed lightly. The major frowned. Mildred folded her arms and stood in the background unmoved and unobtrusive. Louise was chatting volubly with her two cousins.
“Was that the same Mexican girl who fed the baby chile con carne?” inquired Uncle John anxiously.
“Mercy, no!” cried Arthur. “What ever put such an idea into your head?”
“I believe the major suggested it,” replied the little man. “Anyhow, it was something hot, so Louise wrote.”
“Oh, yes; when Toodlums had the colic. It was some queer Mexican remedy, but I’m confident it saved the child’s life. The girl is a treasure.”
Uncle John coughed and glanced uneasily at Miss Travers, who pretended not to have overheard this conversation. But the major was highly amused and decided it was a good joke on Mr. Merrick. It was so good a joke that it might serve as a basis for many cutting remarks in future discussions. His brother-in-law was so seldom guilty of an error in judgment that Major Doyle, who loved to oppose him because he was so fond of him, hailed Uncle John’s present predicament with pure joy.
Louise created a welcome diversion by ushering them all into the house and through the stately rooms to the open court, where a luncheon table was set beneath the shade of the palms.
Here was the baby again, with the Mexican girl, Inez, hugging it defiantly to her bosom as she sat upon a stone bench.
Between the infant, the excitement of arrival and admiration for the Weldon establishment, so far surpassing their most ardent anticipations, Beth and Patsy had little desire for food. Uncle John and the major, however, did ample justice to an excellent repast, which was served by two more Mexican maids.
“Do you employ only Mexicans for servants?” inquired Uncle John, when finally the men were left alone to smoke while the girls, under Louise’s guidance, explored the house.
“Only Mexicans, except for the Chinese cook,” replied Arthur. “It is impossible to get American help and the Japs I won’t have. Some of the ranch hands have been on the place for years, but the house servants I hired after I come here.”
“A lazy lot, eh?” suggested the major.
“Quite right, sir. But I find them faithful and easy to manage. You will notice that I keep two or three times as many house servants as a similar establishment would require in the east; but they are content with much smaller wages. It’s the same way on the ranch. Yet without the Mexicans the help problem would be a serious one out here.”
“Does the ranch pay?” asked Mr. Merrick.
“I haven’t been here long enough to find out,” answered Arthur, with a smile. “So far, I’ve done all the paying. We shall harvest a big orange crop next month, and in time the olives will mature; but I’ve an idea the expenses will eat up the receipts, by the end of the year.”
“No money in a California ranch, eh?”
“Why,
