A PUPIL OF CHESTNUT RIDGE
The schoolmaster of Chestnut Ridge was interrupted in his after-schoolsolitude by the click of hoof and sound of voices on the little bridlepath that led to the scant clearing in which his schoolhouse stood. Helaid down his pen as the figures of a man and woman on horsebackpassed the windows and dismounted before the porch. He recognized thecomplacent, good-humored faces of Mr. and Mrs. Hoover, who owned aneighboring ranch of some importance and who were accounted well to dopeople by the community. Being a childless couple, however, while theygenerously contributed to the support of the little school, they hadnot added to its flock, and it was with some curiosity that the youngschoolmaster greeted them and awaited the purport of their visit. Thiswas protracted in delivery through a certain polite dalliance with thereal subject characteristic of the Southwestern pioneer.
"Well, Almiry," said Mr. Hoover, turning to his wife after the firstgreeting with the schoolmaster was over, "this makes me feel likeold times, you bet! Why, I ain't bin inside a schoolhouse since I wasknee-high to a grasshopper. Thar's the benches, and the desks, and thebooks and all them 'a b, abs,' jest like the old days. Dear! Dear! Butthe teacher in those days was ez old and grizzled ez I be--and some o'the scholars--no offense to you, Mr. Brooks--was older and bigger noryou. But times is changed: yet look, Almiry, if thar ain't a hunk o'stale gingerbread in that desk jest as it uster be! Lord! how it allcomes back! Ez I was sayin' only t'other day, we can't be too gratefulto our parents for givin' us an eddication in our youth;" and Mr.Hoover, with the air of recalling an alma mater of sequestered gloom andcloistered erudition, gazed reverently around the new pine walls.
But Mrs. Hoover here intervened with a gracious appreciation of theschoolmaster's youth after her usual kindly fashion. "And don't youforget it, Hiram Hoover, that these young folks of to-day kin teach theold schoolmasters of 'way back more'n you and I dream of. We've heardof your book larnin', Mr. Brooks, afore this, and we're proud to hev youhere, even if the Lord has not pleased to give us the children to sendto ye. But we've always paid our share in keeping up the schoolfor others that was more favored, and now it looks as if He had notforgotten us, and ez if"--with a significant, half-shy glance at herhusband and a corroborating nod from that gentleman--"ez if, reelly, wemight be reckonin' to send you a scholar ourselves."
The young schoolmaster, sympathetic and sensitive, felt somewhatembarrassed. The allusion to his extreme youth, mollified though it wasby the salve of praise from the tactful Mrs. Hoover, had annoyed him,and perhaps added to his slight confusion over the information shevouchsafed. He had not heard of any late addition to the Hoover family,he would not have been likely to, in his secluded habits; and althoughhe was accustomed to the naive and direct simplicity of the pioneer,he could scarcely believe that this good lady was announcing a maternalexpectation. He smiled vaguely and begged them to be seated.
"Ye see," said Mr. Hoover, dropping upon a low bench, "the way the thingpans out is this. Almiry's brother is a pow'ful preacher down the coastat San Antonio and hez settled down thar with a big Free Will BaptistChurch congregation and a heap o' land got from them Mexicans. Thar'sa lot o' poor Spanish and Injin trash that belong to the land, andAlmiry's brother hez set about convertin' 'em, givin' 'em convickshionand religion, though the most of 'em is Papists and followers of theScarlet Woman. Thar was an orphan, a little girl that he got outer thehands o' them priests, kinder snatched as a brand from the burnin', andhe sent her to us to be brought up in the ways o' the Lord, knowin'that we had no children of our own. But we thought she oughter get thebenefit o' schoolin' too, besides our own care, and we reckoned to bringher here reg'lar to school."
Relieved and pleased to help the good-natured couple in the care of thehomeless waif, albeit somewhat doubtful of their religious methods, theschoolmaster said he would be delighted to number her among his littleflock. Had she already received any tuition?
"Only from them padres, ye know, things about saints, Virgin Marys,visions, and miracles," put in Mrs. Hoover; "and we kinder thought ezyou know Spanish you might be able to get rid o' them in exchange for'conviction o' sins' and 'justification by faith,' ye know."
"I'm afraid," said Mr. Brooks, smiling at the thought of displacing theChurch's "mysteries" for certain corybantic displays and thaumaturgicalexhibitions he had witnessed at the Dissenters' camp meeting, "that Imust leave all that to you, and I must caution you to be carefulwhat you do lest you also shake her faith in the alphabet and themultiplication table."
"Mebbee you're right," said Mrs. Hoover, mystified but good-natured;"but thar's one thing more we oughter tell ye. She's--she's a trifledark complected."
The schoolmaster smiled. "Well?" he said patiently.
"She isn't a nigger nor an Injin, ye know, but she's kinder ahalf-Spanish, half-Mexican Injin, what they call 'mes--mes'"--
"Mestiza," suggested Mr. Brooks; "a half-breed or mongrel."
"I reckon. Now thar wouldn't be any objection to that, eh?" said Mr.Hoover a little uneasily.
"Not by me," returned the schoolmaster cheerfully. "And although thisschool is state-aided it's not a 'public school' in the eye of the law,so you have only the foolish prejudices of your neighbors to deal with."He had recognized the reason of their hesitation and knew the strongracial antagonism held towards the negro and Indian by Mr. Hoover'sSouthwestern compatriots, and he could not refrain from "rubbing it in."
"They kin see," interposed Mrs. Hoover, "that she's not a nigger, forher hair don't 'kink,' and a furrin Injin, of course, is different fromone o' our own."
"If they hear her speak Spanish, and you simply say she is a foreigner,as she is, it will be all right," said the schoolmaster smilingly. "Lether come, I'll look after her."
Much relieved, after a few more words the couple took their departure,the schoolmaster promising to call the next afternoon at the Hoovers'ranch and meet his new scholar. "Ye might give us a hint or two how sheoughter be fixed up afore she joins the school."
The ranch was about four miles from the schoolhouse, and as Mr. Brooksdrew rein before the Hoovers' gate he appreciated the devotion of thecouple who were willing to send the child that distance twice a day.The house, with its outbuildings, was on a more liberal scale than itsneighbors, and showed few of the makeshifts and half-hearted advancestowards permanent occupation common to the Southwestern pioneers, whowere more or less nomads in instinct and circumstance. He was usheredinto a well-furnished sitting room, whose glaring freshness was subduedand repressed by black-framed engravings of scriptural subjects. As Mr.Brooks glanced at them and recalled the schoolrooms of the old missions,with their monastic shadows which half hid the gaudy, tinseled saintsand flaming or ensanguined hearts upon the walls, he feared that thelittle waif of Mother Church had not gained any cheerfulness in theexchange.
As she entered the room with Mrs. Hoover, her large dark eyes--the mostnotable feature in her small face--seemed to sustain the schoolmaster'sfanciful fear in their half-frightened wonder. She was clinging closelyto Mrs. Hoover's side, as if recognizing the good woman's maternalkindness even while doubtful of her purpose; but on the schoolmasteraddressing her in Spanish, a singular change took place in theirrelative positions. A quick look of intelligence came into hermelancholy eyes, and with it a slight consciousness of superiority toher protectors that was embarrassing to him. For the rest he observedmerely that she was small and slightly built, although her figure washidden in a long "check apron" or calico pinafore with sleeves--a localgarment--which was utterly incongruous with her originality. Her skinwas olive, inclining to yellow, or rather to that exquisite shade ofbuff to be seen in the new bark of the madrono. Her face was oval, andher mouth small and childlike, with little to suggest the aboriginaltype in her other features.
The master's questions elicited from the child the fact that she couldread and write, that she knew her "Hail Mary" and creed (happily theProtestant Mrs. Hoover was unable to follow this questioning), but healso elicited the more disturbing f
act that her replies and confidencessuggested a certain familiarity and equality of condition which he couldonly set down to his own youthfulness of appearance. He was apprehensivethat she might even make some remark regarding Mrs. Hoover, and was notsorry that the latter did not understand Spanish. But before he left hemanaged to speak with Mrs. Hoover alone and suggested a change inthe costume of the pupil when she came to school. "The better she isdressed," suggested the wily young diplomat, "the less likely is she toawaken any suspicion of her race."
"Now that's jest what's botherin' me, Mr. Brooks," returned Mrs. Hoover,with a troubled face, "for you see she is a growin' girl," and sheconcluded, with some embarrassment, "I can't quite make up my mind howto dress her."
"How old is she?" asked the master abruptly.
"Goin' on twelve, but,"--and Mrs. Hoover again hesitated.
"Why, two of my scholars, the Bromly girls, are over fourteen," said themaster, "and you know how they are dressed;" but here he hesitated inhis turn. It had just occurred to him that the little waif was from theextreme South, and the precocious maturity of the mixed races there waswell known. He even remembered, to his alarm, to have seen brides oftwelve and mothers of fourteen among the native villagers. This mightalso account for the suggestion of equality in her manner, and even fora slight coquettishness which he thought he had noticed in her whenhe had addressed her playfully as a muchacha. "I should dress her insomething Spanish," he said hurriedly, "something white, you know, withplenty of flounces and a little black lace, or a black silk skirt anda lace scarf, you know. She'll be all right if you don't make her looklike a servant or a dependent," he added, with a show of confidence hewas far from feeling. "But you haven't told me her name," he concluded.
"As we're reckonin' to adopt her," said Mrs. Hoover gravely, "you'llgive her ours."
"But I can't call her 'Miss Hoover,'" suggested the master; "what's herfirst name?"
"We was thinkin' o' 'Serafina Ann,'" said Mrs. Hoover with more gravity.
"But what is her name?" persisted the master.
"Well," returned Mrs. Hoover, with a troubled look, "me and Hiramconsider it's a heathenish sort of name for a young gal, but you'll findit in my brother's letter." She took a letter from under the lid of alarge Bible on the table and pointed to a passage in it.
"The child was christened 'Concepcion,'" read the master. "Why, that'sone of the Marys!"
"The which?" asked Mrs. Hoover severely.
"One of the titles of the Virgin Mary; 'Maria de la Concepcion,'" saidMr. Brooks glibly.
"It don't sound much like anythin' so Christian and decent as 'Maria' or'Mary,'" returned Mrs. Hoover suspiciously.
"But the abbreviation, 'Concha,' is very pretty. In fact it's just thething, it's so very Spanish," returned the master decisively. "Andyou know that the squaw who hangs about the mining camp is called'Reservation Ann,' and old Mrs. Parkins's negro cook is called 'AuntSerafina,' so 'Serafina Ann' is too suggestive. 'Concha Hoover' 's thename."
"P'r'aps you're right," said Mrs. Hoover meditatively.
"And dress her so she'll look like her name and you'll be all right,"said the master gayly as he took his departure.
Nevertheless, it was with some anxiety the next morning he heard thesound of hoofs on the rocky bridle path leading to the schoolhouse. Hehad already informed his little flock of the probable addition to theirnumbers and their breathless curiosity now accented the appearanceof Mr. Hoover riding past the window, followed by a little figure onhorseback, half hidden in the graceful folds of a serape. The nextmoment they dismounted at the porch, the serape was cast aside, and thenew scholar entered.
A little alarmed even in his admiration, the master nevertheless thoughthe had never seen a more dainty figure. Her heavily flounced white skirtstopped short just above her white-stockinged ankles and littlefeet, hidden in white satin, low-quartered slippers. Her black silk,shell-like jacket half clasped her stayless bust clad in an under-bodiceof soft muslin that faintly outlined a contour which struck him asalready womanly. A black lace veil which had protected her head, shehad on entering slipped down to her shoulders with a graceful gesture,leaving one end of it pinned to her hair by a rose above her littleyellow ear. The whole figure was so inconsistent with its presentsetting that the master inwardly resolved to suggest a modification ofit to Mrs. Hoover as he, with great gravity, however, led the girl tothe seat he had prepared for her. Mr. Hoover, who had been assistingdiscipline as he conscientiously believed by gazing with hushed,reverent reminiscence on the walls, here whispered behind his largehand that he would call for her at "four o'clock" and tiptoed out of theschoolroom. The master, who felt that everything would depend uponhis repressing the children's exuberant curiosity and maintaining thediscipline of the school for the next few minutes, with supernaturalgravity addressed the young girl in Spanish and placed before her afew slight elementary tasks. Perhaps the strangeness of the language,perhaps the unwonted seriousness of the master, perhaps also theimpassibility of the young stranger herself, all contributed to arrestthe expanding smiles on little faces, to check their wandering eyes,and hush their eager whispers. By degrees heads were again loweredover their tasks, the scratching of pencils on slates, and thefar-off rapping of Woodpeckers again indicated the normal quiet of theschoolroom, and the master knew he had triumphed, and the ordeal waspast.
But not as regarded himself, for although the new pupil had accepted hisinstructions with childlike submissiveness, and even as it seemed tohim with childlike comprehension, he could not help noticing thatshe occasionally glanced at him with a demure suggestion of someunderstanding between them, or as if they were playing at master andpupil. This naturally annoyed him and perhaps added a severer dignity tohis manner, which did not appear to be effective, however, and whichhe fancied secretly amused her. Was she covertly laughing at him? Yetagainst this, once or twice, as her big eyes wandered from her task overthe room, they encountered the curious gaze of the other children, andhe fancied he saw an exchange of that freemasonry of intelligence commonto children in the presence of their elders even when strangers to eachother. He looked forward to recess to see how she would get on with hercompanions; he knew that this would settle her status in the school, andperhaps elsewhere. Even her limited English vocabulary would not in anyway affect that instinctive, childlike test of superiority, but he wassurprised when the hour of recess came and he had explained to her inSpanish and English its purpose, to see her quietly put her arm aroundthe waist of Matilda Bromly, the tallest girl in the school, as the twowhisked themselves off to the playground. She was a mere child afterall!
Other things seemed to confirm this opinion. Later, when the childrenreturned from recess, the young stranger had instantly become a popularidol, and had evidently dispensed her favors and patronage generously.The elder Bromly girl was wearing her lace veil, another had possessionof her handkerchief, and a third displayed the rose which had adornedher left ear, things of which the master was obliged to take note with aview of returning them to the prodigal little barbarian at the close ofschool. Later he was, however, much perplexed by the mysterious passageunder the desks of some unknown object which apparently was makingthe circuit of the school. With the annoyed consciousness that he wasperhaps unwittingly participating in some game, he finally "nailed it"in the possession of Demosthenes Walker, aged six, to the spontaneousoutcry of "Cotched!" from the whole school. When produced from MasterWalker's desk in company with a horned toad and a piece of gingerbread,it was found to be Concha's white satin slipper, the young girl herself,meanwhile, bending demurely over her task with the bereft foot tucked uplike a bird's under her skirt. The master, reserving reproof of thisand other enormities until later, contented himself with commanding theslipper to be brought to him, when he took it to her with the satiricalremark in Spanish that the schoolroom was not a dressing room--Camarapara vestirse. To his surprise, however, she smilingly held out the tinystockinged foot with a singular combination of the spoiled child and theco
quettish senorita, and remained with it extended as if waiting for himto kneel and replace the slipper. But he laid it carefully on her desk.
"Put it on at once," he said in English.
There was no mistaking the tone of his voice, whatever his language.Concha darted a quick look at him like the momentary resentment ofan animal, but almost as quickly her eyes became suffused, and with ahurried movement she put on the slipper.
"Please, sir, it dropped off and Jimmy Snyder passed it on," said asmall explanatory voice among the benches.
"Silence!" said the master.
Nevertheless, he was glad to see that the school had not noticed thegirl's familiarity even though they thought him "hard." He was notsure upon reflection but that he had magnified her offense and had beenunnecessarily severe, and this feeling was augmented by his occasionallyfinding her looking at him with the melancholy, wondering eyes of achidden animal. Later, as he was moving among the desks' overlookingthe tasks of the individual pupils, he observed from a distance that herhead was bent over her desk while her lips were moving as if repeatingto herself her lesson, and that afterwards, with a swift look around theroom to assure herself that she was unobserved, she made a hurried signof the cross. It occurred to him that this might have followed somepenitential prayer of the child, and remembering her tuition by thepadres it gave him an idea. He dismissed school a few moments earlier inorder that he might speak to her alone before Mr. Hoover arrived.
Referring to the slipper incident and receiving her assurances that"she" (the slipper) was much too large and fell often "so," a factreally established by demonstration, he seized his opportunity. "Buttell me, when you were with the padre and your slipper fell off, you didnot expect him to put it on for you?"
Concha looked at him coyly and then said triumphantly, "Ah, no! but hewas a priest, and you are a young caballero."
Yet even after this audacity Mr. Brooks found he could only recommendto Mr. Hoover a change in the young girl's slippers, the absence of therose-pinned veil, and the substitution of a sunbonnet. For the resthe must trust to circumstances. As Mr. Hoover--who with large paternaloptimism had professed to see already an improvement in her--helped herinto the saddle, the schoolmaster could not help noticing that she hadevidently expected him to perform that act of courtesy, and that shelooked correspondingly reproachful.
"The holy fathers used sometimes to let me ride with them on theirmules," said Concha, leaning over her saddle towards the schoolmaster.
"Eh, what, missy?" said the Protestant Mr. Hoover, pricking up his ears."Now you just listen to Mr. Brooks's doctrines, and never mind themPapists," he added as he rode away, with the firm conviction that themaster had already commenced the task of her spiritual conversion.
The next day the master awoke to find his little school famous. Whateverwere the exaggerations or whatever the fancies carried home to theirparents by the children, the result was an overwhelming interest in theproceedings and personnel of the school by the whole district. Peoplehad already called at the Hoover ranch to see Mrs. Hoover's prettyadopted daughter. The master, on his way to the schoolroom that morning,had found a few woodmen and charcoal burners lounging on the bridlepath that led from the main road. Two or three parents accompaniedtheir children to school, asserting they had just dropped in to see how"Aramanta" or "Tommy" were "gettin' on." As the school began to assembleseveral unfamiliar faces passed the windows or were boldly flattenedagainst the glass. The little schoolhouse had not seen such a gatheringsince it had been borrowed for a political meeting in the previousautumn. And the master noticed with some concern that many of the faceswere the same which he had seen uplifted to the glittering periods ofColonel Starbottle, "the war horse of the Democracy."
For he could not shut his eyes to the fact that they came from nomere curiosity to see the novel and bizarre; no appreciation ofmere picturesqueness or beauty; and alas! from no enthusiasm for theprogression of education. He knew the people among whom he had lived,and he realized the fatal question of "color" had been raised in somemysterious way by those Southwestern emigrants who had carried into this"free state" their inherited prejudices. A few words convinced him thatthe unhappy children had variously described the complexion of their newfellow pupil, and it was believed that the "No'th'n" schoolmaster, aidedand abetted by "capital" in the person of Hiram Hoover, had introducedeither a "nigger wench," a "Chinese girl," or an "Injin baby" to thesame educational privileges as the "pure whites," and so contaminatedthe sons of freemen in their very nests. He was able to reassure manythat the child was of Spanish origin, but a majority preferred theevidence of their own senses, and lingered for that purpose. As the hourfor her appearance drew near and passed, he was seized with a suddenfear that she might not come, that Mr. Hoover had been prevailed uponby his compatriots, in view of the excitement, to withdraw her from theschool. But a faint cheer from the bridle path satisfied him, and thenext moment a little retinue swept by the window, and he understood.The Hoovers had evidently determined to accent the Spanish characterof their little charge. Concha, with a black riding skirt over herflounces, was now mounted on a handsome pinto mustang glittering withsilver trappings, accompanied by a vaquero in a velvet jacket, Mr.Hoover bringing up the rear. He, as he informed the master, hadmerely come to show the way to the vaquero, who hereafter would alwaysaccompany the child to and from school. Whether or not he had beeninduced to this display by the excitement did not transpire. Enough thatthe effect was a success. The riding skirt and her mustang's fripperieshad added to Concha's piquancy, and if her origin was still doubted bysome, the child herself was accepted with enthusiasm. The parents whowere spectators were proud of this distinguished accession to theirchildren's playmates, and when she dismounted amid the acclaim of herlittle companions, it was with the aplomb of a queen.
The master alone foresaw trouble in this encouragement of her precociousmanner. He received her quietly, and when she had removed her ridingskirt, glancing at her feet, said approvingly, "I am glad to see youhave changed your slippers; I hope they fit you more firmly than theothers."
The child shrugged her shoulders. "Quien sabe. But Pedro (the vaquero)will help me now on my horse when he comes for me."
The master understood the characteristic non sequitur as an allusionto his want of gallantry on the previous day, but took no notice of it.Nevertheless, he was pleased to see during the day that she was payingmore attention to her studies, although they were generally rehearsedwith the languid indifference to all mental accomplishment whichbelonged to her race. Once he thought to stimulate her activity throughher personal vanity.
"Why can you not learn as quickly as Matilda Bromly? She is only twoyears older than you," he suggested.
"Ah! Mother of God!--why does she then try to wear roses like me? Andwith that hair. It becomes her not."
The master became thus aware for the first time that the elder Bromlygirl, in "the sincerest form of flattery" to her idol, was wearing ayellow rose in her tawny locks, and, further, that Master Bromly withexquisite humor had burlesqued his sister's imitation with a very smallcarrot stuck above his left ear. This the master promptly removed,adding an additional sum to the humorist's already overflowing slate byway of penance, and returned to Concha. "But wouldn't you like to be asclever as she?--you can if you will only learn."
"What for should I? Look you; she has a devotion for the tall one--theboy Brown! Ah! I want him not."
Yet, notwithstanding this lack of noble ambition, Concha seemed to haveabsorbed the "devotion" of the boys, big and little, and as the masterpresently discovered even that of many of the adult population. Therewere always loungers on the bridle path at the opening and closingof school, and the vaquero, who now always accompanied her, became anobject of envy. Possibly this caused the master to observe him closely.He was tall and thin, with a smooth complexionless face, but tothe master's astonishment he had the blue gray eye of the higher orCastilian type of native Californian. Further inquiry proved that he wasa son
of one of the old impoverished Spanish grant holders whose leaguesand cattle had been mortgaged to the Hoovers, who now retained the sonto control the live stock "on shares." "It looks kinder ez ef he mighthev an eye on that poorty little gal when she's an age to marry,"suggested a jealous swain. For several days the girl submitted to herschool tasks with her usual languid indifference and did not againtransgress the ordinary rules. Nor did Mr. Brooks again refer to theirhopeless conversation. But one afternoon he noticed that in the silenceand preoccupation of the class she had substituted another volume forher text-book and was perusing it with the articulating lips of theunpracticed reader. He demanded it from her. With blazing eyes andboth hands thrust into her desk she refused and defied him. Mr.Brooks slipped his arms around her waist, quietly lifted her from thebench--feeling her little teeth pierce the back of his hand as he didso, but secured the book. Two of the elder boys and girls had risen withexcited faces.
"Sit down!" said the master sternly.
They resumed their places with awed looks. The master examined the book.It was a little Spanish prayer book. "You were reading this?" he said inher own tongue.
"Yes. You shall not prevent me!" she burst out. "Mother of God! THEYwill not let me read it at the ranch. They would take it from me. Andnow YOU!"
"You may read it when and where you like, except when you should bestudying your lessons," returned the master quietly. "You may keep ithere in your desk and peruse it at recess. Come to me for it then. Youare not fit to read it now."
The girl looked up with astounded eyes, which in the capriciousness ofher passionate nature the next moment filled with tears. Then droppingon her knees she caught the master's bitten hand and covered it withtears and kisses. But he quietly disengaged it and lifted her to herseat. There was a sniffling sound among the benches, which, however,quickly subsided as he glanced around the room, and the incident ended.
Regularly thereafter she took her prayer book back at recess anddisappeared with the children, finding, as he afterwards learned, a seatunder a secluded buckeye tree, where she was not disturbed by them untilher orisons were concluded. The children must have remained loyal tosome command of hers, for the incident and this custom were never toldout of school, and the master did not consider it his duty to inform Mr.or Mrs. Hoover. If the child could recognize some check--even if it weredeemed by some a superstitious one--over her capricious and precociousnature, why should he interfere?
One day at recess he presently became conscious of the ceasing of thosesmall voices in the woods around the schoolhouse, which were alwaysas familiar and pleasant to him in his seclusion as the song of theirplayfellows--the birds themselves. The continued silence at lastawakened his concern and curiosity. He had seldom intruded upon orparticipated in their games or amusements, remembering when a boyhimself the heavy incompatibility of the best intentioned adult intruderto even the most hypocritically polite child at such a moment. A senseof duty, however, impelled him to step beyond the schoolhouse, where tohis astonishment he found the adjacent woods empty and soundless. He wasrelieved, however, after penetrating its recesses, to hear the distantsound of small applause and the unmistakable choking gasps of JohnnyStidger's pocket accordion. Following the sound he came at last upon alittle hollow among the sycamores, where the children were disposed ina ring, in the centre of which, with a handkerchief in each hand, Conchathe melancholy!--Concha the devout!--was dancing that most extravagantfeat of the fandango--the audacious sembicuaca!
Yet, in spite of her rude and uncertain accompaniment, she was dancingit with a grace, precision, and lightness that was wonderful; in spiteof its doubtful poses and seductive languors she was dancing it with theartless gayety and innocence--perhaps from the suggestion of her tinyfigure--of a mere child among an audience of children. Dancing it aloneshe assumed the parts of the man and woman; advancing, retreating,coquetting, rejecting, coyly bewitching, and at last yielding as lightlyand as immaterially as the flickering shadows that fell upon them fromthe waving trees overhead. The master was fascinated yet troubled.What if there had been older spectators? Would the parents take theperformance as innocently as the performer and her little audience? Hethought it necessary later to suggest this delicately to the child. Hertemper rose, her eyes flashed.
"Ah, the slipper, she is forbidden. The prayer book--she must not. Thedance, it is not good. Truly, there is nothing."
For several days she sulked. One morning she did not come to school,nor the next. At the close of the third day the master called at theHoovers' ranch.
Mrs. Hoover met him embarrassedly in the hall. "I was sayin' to Hiramhe ought to tell ye, but he didn't like to till it was certain. Concha'sgone."
"Gone?" echoed the master.
"Yes. Run off with Pedro. Married to him yesterday by the Popish priestat the mission."
"Married! That child?"
"She wasn't no child, Mr. Brooks. We were deceived. My brother wasa fool, and men don't understand these things. She was a grownwoman--accordin' to these folks' ways and ages--when she kem here. Andthat's what bothered me."
There was a week's excitement at Chestnut Ridge, but it pleased themaster to know that while the children grieved for the loss of Conchathey never seemed to understand why she had gone.