Slipping in over the patio wall, a golden sunbeam struck behind where
Gordon sat writing and flooded the _portales_ with topaz lights. From
the kitchen came the soft spat, spat of _tortillas_ in the course of
shapement between Teresa's palms, competing splash and flop of Maria's
cloth as she washed off the brown-tiled floor. No other sound disturbed
the morning freshness, for Gordon had risen early to get off a letter
with Lovell, who had dropped in last night on his way to El Paso to
attend Phoebe's wedding.
So engrossed was he that a gentle agitation of the sheet which hung
across Lee's bedroom doorway on the gallery above passed unnoticed. The
rail hid from his view the small, bare feet, but he missed a glimpse of
white shoulder, flash of brown eyes under her hair's bright tousle,
round, red mouth opened in a yawn before, seeing him, she hastily
dropped the sheet. He did not see her even when she came out in kimono
and slippers and soft-footed it down the stone stairs at his back.
Though, sitting up on her heels, Maria looked on smiling, Gordon's first
notice came from the soft palms that slipped over his eyes.
With loose treachery the kimono sleeves had slipped back and he could
feel the soft coolness of her forearms on his neck and cheeks; wherefore
it is not to be wondered at that he found difficulty in guessing whom
she might be. Jake, Sliver, Maria, Teresa, Lovell, the _ancianos_, he
was enumerating by name all the women, children, cats, and dogs of the
_hacienda_ when she cut him off.
"Your stupidity is suspicious, sir. But it punishes itself. If you had
guessed right I might have given you a--"
He took it--in triplicate, then pulled her down on his knee. "To my
father and mother," he replied to her question. "I thought it was about
time I dropped them a line--haven't written home since I came down."
"What?" She uttered a small shocked scream. "You've let them suffer all
this time in suspense and alarm?"