“Can he be there?” she said. “What can he be doing there? Who is it with him?” And she walked down the path, calling, “Alessandro! Alessandro!” At the first sound, Alessandro sprang from the side of his companion, and almost before the second syllables had been said, was standing face to face with Ramona.
“Here I am, Señorita. Does Señor Felipe want me? I have my violin here. I thought perhaps he would like to have me play to him in the twilight.”
“Yes,” replied Ramona, “he wishes to hear you. I have been looking everywhere for you.” As she spoke, she was half unconsciously peering beyond into the dusk, to see whose figure it was, slowly moving by the brook.
Nothing escaped Alessandro's notice where Ramona was concerned. “It is Margarita,” he said instantly. “Does the Señorita want her? Shall I run and call her?”
“No,” said Ramona, again displeased, she knew not why, nor in fact knew she was displeased; “no, I was not looking for her. What is she doing there?”
“She is washing,” replied Alessandro, innocently.
“Washing at this time of day!” thought Ramona, severely. “A mere pretext. I shall watch Margarita. The Señora would never allow this sort of thing.” And as she walked back to the house by Alessandro's side, she meditated whether or no she would herself speak to Margarita on the subject in the morning.
Margarita, in the mean time, was also having her season of reflections not the pleasantest. As she soused her aprons up and down in the water, she said to herself, “I may as well finish them now I am here. How provoking! I've no more than got a word with him, than she must come, calling him
