A Prairie Infanta, Page 3

  CHAPTER THREE

  A TRUE BENEFACTRESS

  Lola's breath was suspended in amazement. Indignation flashed from hereyes. She dropped her hands and Jane saw the fingers clench.

  "It is my father's letter--and you keep it from me? You are cruel!"said Lola, passionately.

  Jane's eyes, set on the ground, seemed to see there, in fiery type, thewords of the paper in her grasp. Those scrawling lines, roaming fromblot to blot across the soiled sheet, had communicated to Jane no painof a personal sort. So far, indeed, as their trend took her on thescore of feeling, she might even have found something satisfying in Mr.Keene's news, since this was merely a statement of his financialdisability. All along Jane had been dreading the hour when, instead ofthis frank disclosure of "hard luck," there should come to her a parcelof money. Not to have any money to send might conjecturally bedistressing to Mr. Keene; but Jane felt that he would be able to endurehis embarrassment better than she herself any question of barterrespecting Lola.

  The very thought of being paid for what she had so freely given hurtJane. Without realizing its coldness and emptiness, her life had beentruly void of human warmth before the little, lonely girl stole in tofill it with her piteous, proud presence. A happier child, with morechildish ways, might not so fully have compassed Jane's awakening; forthis had been in proportion to the needs of the one who so forlornlymade plea for entrance. Having once thrown wide the door of her heart,Jane had begun to understand the blessedness that lies in generosity.Lola might never care for her, indeed; but to Lola she owed the impulseof loving self-bestowal, which is as shining sunlight in the bosom.

  Mr. Keene wrote that the claim he had been working had provedvalueless. He expected better luck next time; but just now he could notdo as he had intended for Lola; and in view of his unsettledcircumstances he thought it might be well if Miss Combs could place thegirl in some family where her services would be acceptable.

  "Life," he wrote, was at best "a rough proposition," and it woulddoubtless be good for Lola, who had sundry faults of temper, to learnthis fact early. For the present she would have to give up all idea ofgoing to school. Mr. Keene would be sorry if the prospect displeasedhis daughter, but people couldn't have everything their own way in thisworld.

  Such words as these Jane instinctively knew would fall crushingly uponLola, and leave her in a sorry plight of abject, hardening thought.Therefore, steeling herself to bear the girl's misinterpretation, shesaid, "Lola, your father wouldn't want you to see this letter. It's onbusiness."

  "Does he say I'm not to see it?" asked Lola.

  Jane's brows twisted painfully. "No," she said, "but--"

  Lola turned away. Every line of her figure was eloquent of grievance.She walked off without a glance to apprise her of the anguish in Jane'sface. Slowly Jane went toward the house; whereupon Alejandro Vigil, whohad continued an interested spectator, followed Lola to the ditch.

  "If thou hadst wept, she would have given thee the letter," hesuggested. "My mother, she always gives up to us when we weep loudly. Astill baby gets no milk," said Alejandro, wisely, as he hugged hisbare knees.

  "I am no baby!" retorted Lola. Nevertheless her voice was husky, andAlejandro watched her anxiously.

  "It's no good to cry now," he advised her. "She's gone into the house."

  "_Tonto!_ Do you think I want her to see me?" wept Lola. "She is hardand cruel. O my father!"

  "Come over and tell my mother about it!" urged the boy, troubled. "Youare Mexican like us, no? Your mother was Mexican? Come! My mother willsay what is best to do."

  Lola listened. She let herself be dragged up. An adviser might speaksome word of wisdom. "Come, then," she agreed.

  But Senora Vigil, on hearing the story, only groaned and sighed.

  "These Americans have the heart of ice!" she said. "Doubtless there wasmoney in the letter and she did not want you to know. Serafita, leavethy sister alone, or I will beat thee! It will be best, Lolita, to saylittle. A close mouth catches no flies."

  "I may not stay here with you?" asked Lola.

  "Alas, no, little pigeon!" mourned the senora. "In the cage where thyfather has put thee thou must stay! But come and tell me everything.This shall be thy house when thou art in trouble!" and thus definingthe limits of her hospitality, she made a gesture toward the mud wallson which strings of goat meat were drying in a sanguinary fringe.

  Autumn fell bright on the foot-hills. The plains blazed with yellowflowers which seemed to run in streams of molten gold from every canyon,and linger in great pools on the flats and line all the ditches. Ricksof green and silver rose all along the Apishapa. Alfalfa was purple tothe last crop, and an air of affluence pervaded everything.

  The town was thronged with ranchers, coming in to trade; the mine hadstarted up for the winter. Men who had prospected for precious metalsall summer in the mountains now bundled their pots and pans andblankets back to shelter for the winter; the long-eared burros, lost ingreat rolls of bedding, stood about the tipple awaiting the result oftheir masters' interviews with the mine boss, concerning work and theoccupancy of any "shack" that might still be empty.

  Now, too, the bell of the red-brick school clamored loudly of mornings;and dark, taciturn Mexican children, and paler, noisier children fromthe mining end of town, bubbled out of every door. Seven Vigils obeyedthe daily summons, clad, boy and girl, in cotton stuff of precisely thehue of their skin. Bobbing through the gate, one after another, theywere like a family of little dun-colored prairie-dogs, of a hue withtheir adobe dwelling, shy and brown and bright-eyed.

  Among them Lola had an effect of tropical brilliancy, by reason of thered frock with which Jane had provided her. There were red ribbons alsoin Lola's braided hair; and the girl, although still aware of bitterwrongs, was sensible of being pleased with her raiment. More than onceon her way to school that first day she looked at the breadths of herscarlet cashmere with a gratified eye; and catching her at this, AnaVigil had sighed disapprovingly, saying, "It is too good for everyday--that dress."

  "It isn't too good for me!" flashed back Lola. "My father can do whathe likes!"

  "True," said Ana, "since he has a gold-mine. But even if I were rich, Ishould fear that the saints might punish me for wearing to school mybest clothes. I would wish to win their good-will by wearing nofinery," said Ana, piously. She was a plump girl, with eyes likesplinters of coal in her suave brown face; despite the extremesoftness of her voice, these glittering splinters rested with no gentleray on Lola.

  Indeed, Jane's pride in having her charge well-dressed operated largelyagainst the girl's popularity with others of her mates than Ana.Primarily Lola's air of hauteur provoked resentment; but hauteur inpoor attire would have been only amusing, while in red cashmere it wasfelt to be a serious matter, entailing upon every one the sense of apersonal affront. Lola's quickness of retort was also against her. Theswift flash of her eye, the sudden quiver of her lip, affordedcontinual gratification to such as had it in mind to effect herdiscomposure.

  "They do not love you too well, Lolita," said Ana Vigil, sadly. "Theysay you have a sharp tongue. They say you are too well pleased withyourself. Me, I tell you what I hear because I am your friend."

  "So long a tongue as yours, Ana, weaves a short web!" growledAlejandro, with a masculine distrust of his sister's friendlyassumptions.

  "Lola knows if I speak truth," returned Ana, tranquilly.

  Lola maintained an impassive front, but she was hurt. The little tricksand taunts of her schoolfellows tormented her deeply. She had latelyrelapsed into the stolid indifference native to her blood, and this washer best shield, had she only known it, although it, too, for a timeleft her open to attack. For when she encased herself in cold silence,and stalked home with lifted head and unseeing eyes, often a littlethrong of Mexican children would walk behind her, imitating her statelygait and calling mockingly, "_Ea! ea!_ See the _madamisela_! See theprincess! She is sister to the king--that one! _Vah! vah! vah!_"

  And mingling their v
oices they would sing, "_Infanta! Infanta Lolita!_"until Lola, stung to rage, turned upon them wildly; whereat theirdelighted cries served to send her flying homeward.

  "I guess not even Squire Baca's girls nor Edith May Jonas had betterthings than you," said Jane, unaware of all this. Her own garmentsremained things of the baldest utility, but the village seamstress waskept busy feather-stitching and beribboning articles for Lola's wear.

  In these things Jane developed a most prodigal pride, freely expendingupon them the little patrimony which had been put in the Trinidad bankagainst her old age. Her usual good judgment quite failed her; and shewho, patternless and guideless, slashed brown denim fearlessly intouncouth vestures for herself, now had a pulse of trepidation at layingthe tissue-paper model of some childish garment for Lola upon a lengthof dainty wool.

  "Maybe," said Lola, "the others would like me better if my fatherdidn't get me so many things."

  Jane's eyes shone with a fierce light.

  "Don't they like you?" she demanded, harshly.

  "Didn't you hear them calling 'infanta' after me just now?"

  "Infanta--is it anything _bad_?" Jane's voice was so wroth that Lolalaughed.

  "It means princess."

  "Oh!" said Jane, mollified. "If it'd been anything _else_, I'd havegone straight down to see the marshal!" Lola flushed a little. Shethought, "How kind she is! If I could only forget--about that letter!"

  The dislike of the Mexican children abated with time. They even came toadmire Lola's quickness. She went above them in class--yes! but alsoshe went above the Americans! The little Mexicans, aware of a certainmental apathy, had not enviously regarded the exploits of the "smart"Americans. If these others "went up," what did it matter? All onecould do if one were Mexican was to accept defeat with dignity, andreflect upon the fact that things would be different if Spanish and notEnglish were the language of the school.

  When Lola, however, one of themselves by reason of her color and herfluency in their idiom, displayed an ability to master thoseremorseless obscurities of spelling and arithmetic which had seemedsufficient to dethrone reason in any but a Saxon mind, then the peonchildren began to find some personal satisfaction in her achievements.

  Whenever Lola went above Jimmy Adkins, the mine boss's boy, and EdithMay Jonas, the liveryman's only daughter, every Mexican face recorded aslow smile of triumph. "_'Sta 'ueno!_" they would whisper, watchingEdith May, who upon such occasions was wont to enliven things bybursting into tears, and who commonly brought upon the following day anote from her mother, stating that Edith May must be excused formissing in spelling because she had not been at all well and hadmisunderstood the word.

  The next two years also mitigated much of the constraint which hadmarked Miss Combs's relations with Lola. After the episode of theletter, Lola never asked news of her father. Insensibly she came tounderstand that if he wrote at all he wrote seldom, and solely upon thematter of her expenses. And naturally she ceased clinging warmly to thethought of his love for her. His silence and absence were not spurs toaffection, although she dwelt gratefully upon the fact that he shouldlavish so much upon her.

  Jane's money was lessening, but none of Lola's wishes had as yet beenbaffled. The girl had a sort of barbaric love of brightness andsoftness; and one day, as she looked over some fabrics for which Jane,spurred by the approach of the vacation and the fact that Lola was tohave a part in the closing exercises of school, had sent to Denver, thegirl said suddenly, "How good my father is to me, _tia_!"

  Long before, she had asked Jane what she should call her, and Jane hadsaid, "Maybe you better call me aunt."

  "I will do it in Mexican, then," said Lola. "It sounds more ripe." Shemeant mellow, no doubt. Now, as she fingered the pretty muslin, sheseemed to gather resolution to speak of something which had itsdifficulties. "_Tia_," she pursued, "he is well off--my father?"

  Jane's voice had rather a feigned lightness as she replied, "You haveeverything you want, don't you?" No one but herself knew that for sometime she had been paying Mr. Keene a monthly stipend. He had writtenthat Lola ought not any longer to be giving her services just forboard. So great a girl must be very handy about a house; and as luckstill evaded him, he confessed that Lola's earnings would considerably"help him out."

  Jane had not combated his views. Many Mexican children younger thanLola earned a little tending the herds and helping about the fields.They were usually boys; but Jane did not dwell on this point. She hadnever clearly realized, on her own part, those distinctions in laborwhich appertain to the sexes; she had herself always done everythingthat had to be done, whether it were cooking or plowing. If she had anychoice, it was for pursuits of the field. Therefore, without comment,she had accepted Mr. Keene's theories as just, and began to pay himwhat he said would be "about right."

  "Because," said Lola, "I want you to ask him something when you write.I am over fourteen now. There isn't much more for me to learn in thisschool. Senor Juarez and Miss Belton both tell me I ought to go toPueblo. Edith May Jonas is going. I should like to study manythings--drawing, for instance. They say I ought to study that. Mymother always said she hoped I would have a chance to learn. And myfather used to say, 'Oh, yes!' that he would soon have money foreverything. And now he has! Will you ask him?"

  Jane was dusting the mantel on which Tesuque still sat open-mouthed,with his bowl. The room had lost its former barren aspect. There wasnow a carpet, while muslin shades softened the glare of the Coloradosun and the view of the sterile hills. Geraniums bloomed on thewindow-sills, and some young cottonwoods grew greenly at the door. Thescarlet Navajo blanket, which had been Lola's inheritance from theprairie-schooner, was spread across a couch, and gave a final note ofwarmth and comfort to the low room, now plastered in adobe from ceilingto floor. Everything that had been done was for Lola's sake, who lovedwarmth and color, as do all Southrons.

  Tesuque alone, divinely invariable amid so much change, now seemed towink the eye at Jane's uncertainty. For Jane knew that there was notenough money in the bank to pay for a year's schooling at Pueblo. Sofar she knew, yet she said simply, "I can ask him."

  If Lola wanted to go to Pueblo, she must go. It would be a pity ifEdith May Jonas should have better schooling than Lola, thought Jane.And as she pondered, it came forcibly to her that money need not belacking; she could mortgage her house. She shut her eyes to all futuredifficulties which this must involve, and, upon a certain June day, setresolutely out to see if the doctor were willing to make the loan.

  The doctor, sitting in the little office which he had built in thecorner of his shady yard, scowled over his glasses as he listened.

  "You're making a mistake," he said, having heard all, "to let Lolabelieve that her father is providing for her. I know you began it allwith a view to charitable ends; but he who does evil that good may comesets his foot in a crooked path, of which none can see the close."

  "I didn't want to see her breaking her heart."

  "I know, but I do not believe it's ever well to compound and treat withwrong. If you'll be advised, you'll tell her the whole truth at once."

  Jane sat bolt upright before him. Her arms were folded across herbutternut waist, and under the man's hat a grim resolution seemed to beembodying itself.

  "She wouldn't go to school at Pueblo if I told her--nor feel like shehad any home--or anything in the world. And I aint going to tell her!"

  "Miss Jane, Miss Jane, don't you see you're doing the girl a realinjury in letting her regard you, her true benefactor, merely as theagent of her father's generosity? You have simply sustained andencouraged her worst traits. She wouldn't have been so exacting, soresentful, so easily provoked if she had known all along that she wasonly a poor little pensioner on your bounty. The lesson of humilitywould have gone far with her. No, Miss Jane, it wouldn't have hurt herto be humbled. It won't now!"

  "I don't believe it ever does any one any good to be humbled!"maintained Jane, stoutly and with reason. "Especially if it's a poor,frail little soul that aint g
ot no mother! I did what I thought best,though I can't afford it no way in the world! To prune and dress a lieaint going to make it grow into a truth!" She rose. "I guess I'll seeif Henry Jonas'll be willing to take that mortgage!"

  "I'm going to do it myself!" roared the doctor. "I don't want Jonas toown all the property in Aguilar!" Generosity and anger swayed himconfusedly; but as he watched Jane trudging down under the Dauntless'stipple he became clear enough to register with himself a vow. "Lola hasgot to know the truth!" he declared. "Maybe it's none of my business,but all the same she's going to know it, and know it now!" And he gotup, grimly resolute.

  WISE IMPULSES