Two Women

Mercedes laughed a trifle uneasily, her eyes suddenly lowered before
the other's anxious scrutiny.

"Ah, no, señorita," she answered softly. "Eet surprises me mooch you
not know; eet vas Señor Brown."

Miss Norvell grasped her firmly by the shoulder.

"Brown?" she exclaimed eagerly. "Stutter Brown? Oh, call him back;
cannot you call him back?"

The young Mexican shook her head, her white teeth gleaming, as she drew
her shoulder free from the fingers clasping it.

"You vas too late, señorita," she replied, sweetly confident. "He vas
already gone to de 'Little Yankee.' But he speak mooch to me first."

"Much about what?"

"Vel, he say he lofe me--he say eet straight, like eet vas vat he
meant."

"Oh!"

"Si, señorita; he not even talk funny, maybe he so excited he forgot
how, hey? An' vat you tink dat he say den to Mercedes--vat?"

The other shook her head, undecided, hesitating as to her own purpose.

"He ask me vould I marry him. Si, si, vat you tink of dat--me,
Mercedes Morales, de dancer at de Gayety--he ask me vould I marry him.
Oh, Mother of God!"

The young American stared at her upturned animated face, suddenly
aroused to womanly interest.

"And what did you say?"

Mercedes stamped her foot savagely on the hard ground, her eyes glowing
like coals of fire.

"You ask vat I say? Saints of God! vat could I say? He vas a good
man, dat Señor Brown, but I--I vas not a good voman. I no tell him
dat--no! no! I vas shamed; I get red, vite; I hardly speak at all; my
heart thump so I tink maybe eet choke me up here, but I say no. I say
no once, tvice, tree time. I tell him he big fool to tink like dat of
me. I tell him go vay an' find voman of his own race--good voman. I
tell him eet could nevah be me, no, nevah."