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"Your father is so good," she said gratefully to Mariquita. "Yes," she smiled. "My Pápa ees of a deeferent good; he ees glad-good, an' my Madrecita ees sad-good. Me I am bad-good! You know, I mus' go to church wiz my mawther, but my Pápa, he weel not go. He nevair say 'No' to my mawther; he ees too kind. Jus' always on the church day he is seek. So seek ees my poor Pápa on the church day!"
But the experience taught her to obey, taught her that Carmen knew best what was for her good. It also caused her to think a great deal. Carmen had told her that the dead people never frightened good little girls who stayed at home. "Madrecita Carmen," she asked, "is my mamma dead?" "Pobrecita! .... Yes, my angel. God called her to Him, your darling mother."
And Concha had well learned to pray. But the sea seemed to her the one Power which God could not make to obey Him as He pleased. Saying the creed one day, she repeated very slowly the opening words, "Creo en un Dios, padre todopoderoso, Criador de cielo y de la tierra," and paused and thought. Creator of Heaven and Earth? "Madrecita Carmen," she asked, "quien entonces hizo el mar?"
"Madrecita," she asked again, her young eyes growing vast with horror, "is my own mamma now like That?" ... She pointed toward the place of the white gleam, behind the great trees. "No, no, no! my darling!" cried Carmen, appalled herself by the ghastly question, "your mamma is with the dear, good, loving God, who lives in the beautiful sky, above the clouds, my darling, beyond the sun!"
"And my poor Madrecita of a homely to chill the blood? But a saint, my mawther. Me, I am not so good. Also gracias a Dios, I am not so " she leaned forward to regard herself in the narrow strip of mirror between the windows and a wary eye on the Señora applied a lip stick to her ripe little mouth. She wanted at once to know about Honor's sweethearts. "A fe mia in all your life but one novio?
Then Carmen lifted her from the bed to her lap, and caressed her, and rocked her gently to and fro, as she had done many a night for Concha, murmuring, "Yo sere tu madre, angel mio, dulzura mia; sere tu madrecita, palomita mia!" Feliu re-appeared at the inner door: at a sign, he approached cautiously, without noise, and looked.
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