"
"To-morrow!" her host cried in dismay. "No, no! You must wait--"
"My husband is expecting me."
This statement was a blow; it seemed to crush Longorio, who could
only look his keen distress.
As they stepped out into the street Alaire was afforded that treat
which Longorio had so thoughtfully arranged for her. There in the
gutter stood Inez Garcia with her baby in her arms, and beside her
the ragged figure of a young man, evidently her Juan. The fellow
was emaciated, his face was gaunt and worn and frightened, his
feet were bare even of sandals, the huge peaked straw hat which he
clutched over his breast was tattered, and yet in his eye there
was a light.
They had waited patiently, these Garcias, heedful of Longorio's
orders, and now they burst into a torrent of thanks. They flung
themselves to their knees and kissed the edge of Alaire's dress.
Their instructions had been plain, and they followed them to the
letter, yet their gratitude was none the less genuine for being
studied. The little mother's hysteria, for instance, could not
have been entirely assumed, and certainly no amount of rehearsals
could have taught the child to join his cries so effectively to
his parents'.
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