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Updated: June 1, 2025
Nothing mattered but that perhaps he might find Frances. "You must take me to her," he said. "I must see her to-night." "I can't take you to see her to-night. She wouldn't like it. Oh, I know!" Carmencita made another rapid whirl.
Everybody wants a mother at Christmas, and I haven't had one since I was seven. Father tries to fill my stocking, but it isn't a mother-stocking, and I just ache and ache to to have one like you'd fix. I want " The words came tremblingly, and presently she sat up. "Carmencita Bell, you are a baby. Behave your self!" With the end of the gingham apron the big blue eyes were wiped.
"Carmencita! oh, Carmencita!" Into the child's eyes the beautiful ones of her friend looked with sudden appeal, and the usually steady hands held those of Carmencita with frightened force. "What have you done? What have you done?" "Done?" Carmencita's fingers twisted into those of her beloved, and her laugh was joyous. "Done! Not much yet. I've just begun.
We're living one, and you're the Prince and Miss Frances is the Princess, and I found you! Oh, my goodness! what is that?" With a swift movement she was on her feet and at the door. Van Landing, too, rose quickly. Below could be heard loud voices, the moving of furniture, and the cries of frightened children, and cautiously Carmencita turned the knob and went into the hall.
He came to himself and laughed again as he thought of Carmencita, the first girl he had ever known and the last. With a boy's impetuosity he had wooed her in a manner far different from that of the peons who sang beneath her window and talked to her mother. He had boldly scaled the wall and did his courting in her house, trusting to luck and to his own ability to avoid being seen.
Now that his sister was married and his brother out of school, he could save more, but with this He tried to speak, then turned away and walked over to the window. "Call her in, Herrick, and let's have it settled. Why not get the license to-day and be married to-morrow? Oh, Miss Davis!" He opened the door and beckoned to his stenographer, who was showing Carmencita her typewriter.
And was it true, what Carmencita had said was she giving herself to others and refusing herself to the only one who had the right to claim her, the royal right of love? But how did she know he still needed her, wanted her? When she had returned to her own city after long absence she had told of her present place of residence to but few of her old friends.
"No, no, no!" she cried, running forward and catching at the other's hand. "I'm not that. You don't understand." Coldly Carmencita disengaged her hand and wiped it with her kerchief. "I understand enough. Please do not touch me." "May I not tell you my story?" "I'll not trouble you. It does not interest me." "But you will listen?" implored the other. "I must ask to be excused."
You've come across the devil he isn't always black and you've not had your neck wrung. I wear a woollen suit, but I'm no sheep.* Go and burn a candle to your majari, she deserves it well. Come, good-by once more. Don't think any more about La Carmencita, or she'll end by making you marry a widow with wooden legs. * * Me dicas vriarda de jorpoy, bus ne sino braco. A gipsy proverb.
Carmencita's long slender forefinger made a jab in Van Landing's direction, and her head nodded with each word uttered. But before he could answer, Mother McNeil, with breakfast on a tray, was in the room and Carmencita was out. Sitting down beside him, as he asked her to do, Van Landing told her how it happened he was there, told her who he was. Miss Barbour was under her care.
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