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Two incidents came under my notice which it is a pleasure to describe. The house was on fire more than once, but they managed to extinguish the fire each time. Mention has previously been made of my little maid, Ceferiana. At the first alarm that night, she rushed into my room, and, spreading out a sheet, began to throw clothes into it from my drawers and wardrobe.
When she had gathered up a full bundle, she rushed off to a place of safety, deposited it and came back for more. Meanwhile I had gathered up some silver and other valuables, and locked them in a trunk. Ceferiana helped me to carry this out, and as we were returning, the sweep of the flames seemed to be almost engulfing our house. For the first time Ceferiana gave a thought to her own possessions.
The street was not over twenty-five feet wide, the houses, after native custom, being flush with the gutter. In this narrow space my servants had started a game of ball. They had the diamond all marked out, and one player on each base. There was Ceferiana, the cook, a maid of seventeen, with her hair twisted into a Sappho knot at the back with one wisp hanging out like a horse's tail.
The bearers came at last and carried him away on a stretcher. Two cases were taken out of the house next door to me. October 16. Ceferiana professed to be ill this morning, and I was alarmed. I dosed her with the medicine which Dr. S had given me when the epidemic first appeared, and sent for the Doctor himself.
To-day I discovered that all the elaborate boilings of dish cloths and towels that have been carried out here since the epidemic began have been a mere farce. Every day for a week I went out and superintended the operation till I thought Ceferiana had mastered it. She had, indeed, caught the details, but quite missed the idea.
Manuel was second base and pitcher combined. Ceferiana was at the bat, while behind her her youngest brother he whose engaging smile occupied so much of my attention at the funeral of the lavandero aforementioned was spread out in the attitude of a professional catcher. His plump, rounded little legs were stretched so far apart that he could with difficulty retain his balance.
Tomas was out of breath, but not so much so that he could not ejaculate, "Sus! Maria Santisima, Señorita!" in injured tones. Ciriaco, the cook, lay down on the floor and laughed. Later I heard him and Ceferiana agreeing that I was "muy valiente" October 25. In spite of the agua finecada and the boiled towel, Mrs. T 's cook has developed cholera.
But the patients were very quiet. To-night at dinner Mr. C tasted his coffee and looked suspicious. In my capacity of boarding-house keeper, I was instantly alarmed and tasted mine. It seemed to have been made with agua finecada. Miss P said plaintively that she had as lief die of cholera as of carbolic acid poison. Neither Ciriaco nor Ceferiana could explain.
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