fantastic _faja_ of green wool, narrowly woven.

"I ask no help!" said the child, in very good English. "Only that you
go away! We--we want to be by ourselves, here--" suddenly she broke
off, glancing piteously toward the couch, and crying out in a changed,
husky voice, "_Madre mia! muerta! muerta!_"

A ray of sunshine sped into the wagon as some hand outside withdrew the
rear curtain a little. It shot a sharp radiance through the red and
orange of the Indian blanket, and flashed across the array of tin and
copper cooking things hung against one of the arching ribs of the
canvas hood. Also it disclosed how slight and small a creature it was
who spoke so imperatively, asking solitude for her mourning.

Jane, viewing the little, desperate thing, seemed to find in herself no
power of consolation. And as she stood wordless, with dimming eyes,
there came from without a sound of mingling voices. Others were come
with offers of service and sympathy. A confusion of Spanish and English
hurtled on Jane's uncomprehending ear; some one climbing the step
cried, "_Ave Maria!_" as his eyes fell on the couch. It was Pablo
Vigil, a mild-eyed Mexican, with a miner's lamp burning blue in his
cap.

Behind him rose the round, doughy visage of his wife, blank with awe.
She muttered a saint's name as she dragged herself upward, and said,
"Ay! ay! ay! the poor little one! Let me take her away! So you are
here, too, Mees Combs. But she will not speak to you, eh? _Lo se! lo
se!_ She will speak to one who is like herself, a Mexican!"

She seemed to gather up the child irresistibly, murmuring over her in
language Jane could not understand, "Tell me thy name, _pobrecita_!
Maria de los Dolores, is it? A name of tears, but blessed. And they
call thee Lola, surely, as the custom is? Come, _querida_! Come with
me to my house. It will please thy mother!"

It was not precisely clear to Jane how among them the half-dozen
Mexican women, who now thronged the wagon and filled it with wailing
exclamations, managed to pass the little girl from hand to hand and out
into the air. Seeing, however, that this was accomplished, she
descended into the crowd of villagers now assembled outside. There was
a strange, dumb pain in her breast as she saw the little, green-tricked
head disappear in the press about the doctor's buggy. She was sensible
of wishing to carry the child home to her own dwelling; and there was
in her a kind of jealous pang that Senora Vigil sh