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Updated: June 1, 2025
If I thought it was that son of Satan, the serjeant, who is ever philandering and following you about Who was it, I say?" Mariquita would not answer. "In with you, shameless, idle daughter of pauper parents, who died in my debt, leaving you on my hands! Is it thus that you repay me my bounty the home I give you the bread you eat? Go in, jade, and earn it, or I'll put you into the street."
Mariquita, the girl, was all father, and she had been a year in a Los Angeles convent.
The diminutives are, however, almost always used Pacquita, Juanito, etc., in place of Francisca or Juan. Even the middle-aged and old ladies are always spoken to by their Christian names, and it is quite common to hear a child of six addressing a lady who is probably a grandmother as "Luisa" or "Mariquita."
No one else was there to answer his knock and Mariquita, busied in making candy, could not in her confusion find a coconut shell to dip water for washing her hands from the large jar, and not to keep the visitor waiting, she answered the door as she was.
"But she have in his," said Mariquita, wisely. "No more talk!" cried Faquita, and once more silence came to her own. But fate was stronger than Faquita. An hour later a little girl came running down, calling to the old woman that her grandchild, the consolation of her age, had been taken ill.
Colonel Marchbanks, Manuela, and the fair Mariquita followed. Antonio, Spotted Tiger, the sportsman and his friend came next, and Lawrence with Quashy and Sooz'n brought up the rear. In this order they set off at full gallop over the roadless plains, diverging a little here and there as the nature of the ground required, but otherwise steering a straight line in the direction of the rising sun.
I failed to see in the sweet countenance framed in curling fair hair, and in the slight girlish figure of surpassing grace, my swarthy friend Pedro. She seemed startled at first by my father's abrupt manner. He questioned her. What was her name `Mariquita, she said. `I was sure of it, rejoined my father. `Your surname, my girl? "`Arnold, senhor, she replied, with surprise.
For five years we remained here, and the little Mariquita grew to be an angel of light and beauty like her mother in all respects, except that she was very fair, with curly golden hair. "About that time war broke out doubly accursed war! One night a band of deserters came and attacked my cottage.
Oh yes a beauty! with soft turf paths, bordered with roses, and every flower that blooms growing in the borders. We will have an orchard, too, where the spring bulbs come up among the grass; and I've set my heart on a moat. It has been the dream of my life to have a moat. `Mariquita of the Moated Grange!... Sounds well, doesn't it?
Tio Pedro had gone off to a neighbouring wine-shop to exaggerate his recent prowess, and La Zandunga sat alone behind the counter. "Where is Benito? Has he gone?" asked Mariquita, nervously. "Yes. Did he frighten my sweet bird?" said her aunt, soothing her. "He is an indecent, ill-mannered rogue, and we shall be well rid of him." "Well rid of him? He really leaves us, then? For the Crimea?"
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