"
"No, honey, sartinly not; 'sides, I is tired out of speakin' Spanish,"
in low, mumbling accents. "Well, den, dat young gal gone to 'tend on
Mrs. Raymond, and, as fur de chile, dey pays me to take kear of dat in
dis very house ware you is disposed of. Dat boy gits me a heap of
trouble and onrest of nights, dough, I tells you, honey; but I is well
paid, and dey all has der reasons for letting him stay here, I
spec'"--shaking her head sagaciously--"dough dey may be disappinted yit,
when de time comes to testify and swar! De biggest price will carry de
day den, chile; I tells you all," eying the gold held closely in her
palm.
I caught eagerly at the idea of the child's presence, though the rest
was Greek to my comprehension until long afterward, when, in untangling
a chain of iniquity difficult to match, it formed one important but
additional link.
"Poor little Ernie! I would give so much to see him," I said. "Ask Dr.
Englehart to let him come to see me, Sabra, and some day I will reward
you"--all this in the faintest whisper. "But Mrs. Raymond--where is she?
Does she never come here? I desire earnestly to speak with her. Can't
you let her know this? Try, Sabra, for humanity's sake."
At this juncture the head of Mrs. Clayton was thrust forth from its
shell, turtle-wise, and appeared peering at the door-cheek.
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