Far from being offended at this ingenious interpretation of his character, Ezekiel exhibited a dry gratification over it, and even conceived an unwholesome admiration of the fair critic; he haunted her presence and preoccupied her society far beyond Joan's most sanguine expectations.He sat in open-mouthed enjoyment of her at the table, he waylaid her in the garden, he attempted to teach her English.Dona Rosita received these extraordinary advances in a no less extraordinary manner.In the scant masculine atmosphere of the house, and the somewhat rigid New England reserve that still pervaded it, perhaps she languished a little, and was not averse to a slight flirtation, even with a madman.Besides, she assumed the attitude of exercising a wholesome restraint over him."If we are not found dead in our bed one morning, and extracted of our blood for a cordial, you shall thank to me for it," she said to Joan.
"Also for the not empoisoning of the coffee!"So she permitted him to carry a chair or hammock for her into the garden, to fetch the various articles which she was continually losing, and which he found with his usual penetration; and to supply her with information, in which, however, he exercised an unwonted caution.On the other hand, certain naive recollections and admissions, which in the quality of a voluble child she occasionally imparted to this "madman" in return, were in the proportion of three to one.
It had been a hot day, and even the usual sunset breeze had failed that evening to rock the tops of the outlying pine-trees or cool the heated tiles of the pueblo roofs.There was a hush and latent expectancy in the air that reacted upon the people with feverish unrest and uneasiness; even a lull in the faintly whispering garden around the Demorests' casa had affected the spirits of its inmates, causing them to wander about in vague restlessness.Joan had disappeared; Dona Rosita, under an olive-tree in one of the deserted paths, and attended by the faithful Ezekiel, had said it was "earthquake weather," and recalled, with a sign of the cross, a certain dreadful day of her childhood, when el temblor had shaken down one of the Mission towers."You shall see it now, as he have left it so it has remain always," she added with superstitious gravity.
"That's just the lazy shiftlessness of your folks," responded Ezekiel with prompt ungallantry."It ain't no wonder the Lord Almighty hez to stir you up now and then to keep you goin'."Dona Rosita gazed at him with simple childish pity."Poor man; it have affect you also in the head, this weather.So! It was even so with the uncle of my father.Hush up yourself, and bring to me the box of chocolates of my table.I will gif to you one.You shall for one time have something pleasant on the end of your tongue, even if you must swallow him after."Ezekiel grinned."Ye ain't afraid o' bein' left alone with the ghost that haunts the garden, Miss Rosita?""After YOU--never-r-r."
"I'll find Mrs.Demorest and send her to ye," said Ezekiel, hesitatingly.
"Eh, to attract here the ghost? Thank you, no, very mooch."Ezekiel's face contracted until nothing but his bright peering gray eyes could be seen."Attract the ghost!" he echoed."Then you kalkilate that it's--" he stopped, insinuatingly.
Rosita brought her fan sharply over his knuckles, and immediately opened it again over her half-embarrassed face."I comprehend not anything to 'ekalkilate.' WILL you go, Don Fantastico; or is it for me to bring to you?"Ezekiel flew.He quickly found the chocolates and returned, but was disconcerted on arriving under the olive-tree to find Dona Rosita no longer in the hammock.He turned into a by-path, where an extraordinary circumstance attracted his attention.The air was perfectly still, but the leaves of a manzanita bush near the misshapen cactus were slightly agitated.Presently Ezekiel saw the stealthy figure of a man emerge from behind it and approach the cactus.Reaching his hand cautiously towards the plant, the stranger detached something from one of its thorns, and instantly disappeared.The quick eyes of Ezekiel had seen that it was a letter, his unerring perception of faces recognized at the same moment that the intruder was none other than the handsome, reckless-looking man he had seen the other day in conference with Mateo.
But Ezekiel was not the only witness of this strange intrusion.Afew paces from him, Dona Rosita, unconscious of his return, was gazing in a half-frightened, breathless absorption in the direction of the stranger's flight.
"Wa'al!" drawled Ezekiel lazily.
She started and turned towards him.Her face was pale and alarmed, and yet to the critical eye of Ezekiel it seemed to wear an expression of gratified relief.She laughed faintly.
"Ef that's the kind o' ghost you hev about yer, it's a healthy one," drawled Ezekiel.He turned and fixed his keen eyes on Rosita's face."I wonder what kind o' fruit grows on the cactus that he's so fond of?"Either she had not seen the abstraction of the letter, or his acting was perfect, for she returned his look unwaveringly."The fruit, eh? I have not comprehend.""Wa'al, I reckon I will," said Ezekiel.He walked towards the cactus; there was nothing to be seen but its thorny spikes.He was confronted, however, by the sudden apparition of Joan from behind the manzanita at its side.She looked up and glanced from Ezekiel to Dona Rosita with an agitated air.
"Oh, you saw him too?" she said eagerly.
"I reckon," answered Ezekiel, with his eyes still on Rosita."Iwas wondering what on airth he was so taken with that air cactus for."Rosita had become slightly pale again in the presence of her friend.Joan quietly pushed Ezekiel aside and put her arm around her."Are you frightened again?" she asked, in a low whisper.
"Not mooch," returned Rosita, without lifting her eyes.
"It was only some peon, trespassing to pick blossoms for his sweetheart," she said significantly, with a glance towards Ezekiel.
"Let us go in."