"For me you name him?" Lopez finally got out. "Oh, too good you are to me.
Pancho! my own leetle boy! Pancho! 'Some' name, what you say, eh?"
And he pinched the child's cheek, tenderly as his mother would have done.
"And here's mine!" Angela, not to be outdone, piped up, presenting her
child, also in her arms, to the delirious bandit.
"An' what heez name?"
"It ain't a he--it's a she, I told you!" Angela corrected.
"Ah! All kinds you 'ave 'ere, eh? Good! An' what _'er_ name?"
"Can't you guess?" asked "Red," coming forward, smiling.
"A girl? What use I 'ave for girls?" laughed Pancho Lopez. "What you say
now--what's ze name?"
"Why, Panchita! What else could we have named her?" Angela said.
You could have knocked the Mexican down with a straw. This time he was
flabbergasted.
"You all too fine, too tender, too good to me," he said; and there was a
softness in his speech that none of them had guessed could be there, save,
perhaps, Gilbert.
"Oh, no," Jones said. "We wanted a little Mexican touch in our households.
And we've never forgotten you, old friend. Tell me, where have you been all
these months? We hoped to hear from you. But never a word or a sign from
you.
Pages:
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249