but Don Juan Bautista threw his most determined and unrelenting expression upon me, as if to say: "Well, she has had enough warning; now the responsibility rests on her own shoulders!"
He looked back at Jesusita as he stepped from the door, nodding his head—"Well,—I will go; but she will wish she had not gone!"
In the market Juan Bautista never left me for a moment, inspecting closely everything I bought—now and then throwing in a word when he thought I was paying too much. He counted every cent as fast as I paid it out, and noted every article placed in the basket. I had nearly completed my purchases, and was talking to a woman about the prospect for butter—regretting the difficulty of getting it,— when she leaned across the table, waggling that tireless forefinger at me, saying, "En este tiempo ya no hay, no es costumbre" ("At this time of the year there is none"), Juan Bautista chiming in (with the interminable waggle of his forefinger also), "No! no hay!" ("No, indeed, there is none").
The last purchase was made, and I was about closing my purse, when glancing up, I saw Juan Bautista's great merciless eyes fixed upon me, while he said in a firm voice: "But, mi pilon, Señora!" This is the custom of the country. If you stay at home, I get my pilon from the merchants and market people; if you come—I must have it anyhow. A wrangle was impossible, and handing him dos reales (twenty-five cents), I went home a far wiser woman.
Jesusita looked proudly upon the towering form of Juan Bautista as he entered the portal—basket in one hand, dos reales in the other. Not a word was spoken between them, but looks told volumes. She knew what Juan could do, and he had proved to her his ability to cope with the stranger from any part of the world. To myself I confessed
