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Your mother give you nice clean shirt and clothes. My mother too poor. I try learn, read, spell. I grow like American boy." It was the appeal of a soul that looked from Timoteo's eyes. Herbert flushed. "Why, you poor fellow, of course you try!" he answered heartily. "I I'm sorry if I've ever said anything to the teacher that made you feel badly, Timoteo.
This friend, Timoteo della Vita, had been very dear to the child, had played with him and jested with him, made him toys and told him stories, and he was very full of pain at Timoteo's loss.
But when the cow lumbered in through the two white, strange gate-posts at home, she swerved aside a little, and Timoteo saw, standing under the tall red hollyhocks, his teacher, Miss Montgomery. She had a bright tin pail in her hand, and she wanted some milk. Timoteo's eyes brightened.
Seizing the long, heavy iron rods with which the Chinese were wont to go abalone-hunting, the three Celestials followed in Timoteo's wake toward the place where Herbert anxiously awaited rescue. There was much prying with the iron rods before the stone was finally tilted enough so that the drenched prisoner was released.
Do you hate me?" Timoteo glanced up slowly. His dark eyes were full of appeal. "You no talk to teacher any more about me?" he besought. "You no tell her my father lazy, we no-'count folks?" Timoteo's voice shook. He hurried on: "I like teacher. I try be clean. I wash my hands, my face, all time. I do ver' good to the teacher. But my mother differ from your mother.
As those who knew anything about the events that night in Don Timoteo's house were for the most part military officials and government employees, it was not difficult to suppress the affair in public, for it concerned the integrity of the fatherland. Before this name Ben-Zayb bowed his head heroically, thinking about Abraham, Guzman El Bueno, or at least, Brutus and other heroes of antiquity.
Poor Timoteo! He had hoped the teacher and her mother would take milk of him. Miss Montgomery had almost promised to, before this, and one customer for milk made such a difference in Timoteo's home finances! "But now she never like me any more," Timoteo hopelessly forewarned himself, as he sat among the trees, his eyes yet red with crying. "And I try, I try!
Some weeks afterward, in the month of April, it was rumored that Juanito Pelaez, Don Timoteo's son, was going to marry Paulita Gomez, the girl coveted by Spaniards and foreigners. "Some men are lucky!" exclaimed other envious merchants.
"But now I remember! He left the house just as we were sitting down to the dinner. He went to get his wedding-gift." "But wasn't he a friend of the General's? Wasn't he a partner of Don Timoteo's?" "Yes, he made himself a partner in order to strike the blow and kill all the Spaniards." "Aha!" cried Sensia. "Now I understand!" "What?" "You didn't want to believe Aunt Tentay.
But Momoy had attended the wedding, so his posthumous emotion can be appreciated: he had been near the kiosk. "That's what no one can explain," replied Chichoy. "Who would have any interest in breaking up the fiesta? There couldn't have been more than one, as the celebrated lawyer Señor Pasta who was there on a visit declared either an enemy of Don Timoteo's or a rival of Juanito's."
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