"Now, curb thy greed," cried Don Guillermo, as the girls dropped down
the companion-way, "for thou hast more now than thou canst wear in
five years. God of my soul! if a bark came every day they would want
every shred on board. My daughter could tapestry the old house with
the shawls she has."

When I reached the cabin I found the table covered with silks,
satins, crêpe, shawls, combs, articles of lacquer-ware, jewels, silk
stockings, slippers, spangled tulle, handkerchiefs, lace, fans. The
girls' eyes were sparkling. Chonita clapped her hands and ran around
the table, pressing to her lips the beautiful white things she quickly
segregated, running her hand eagerly over the little slippers, hanging
the lace about her shoulders, twisting a rope of garnets in her yellow
hair.

"Never have they been so beautiful, Eustaquia! Is it not so, my
Prudencia?" she cried to the girl, who was curled on one corner of
the table, gloating over the treasures she knew her uncle's generosity
would make her own. "Look, how these little diamonds flash! And the
embroidery on this crêpe!--a dozen eyes went out ay! yi! This satin
is like a tile! These fans were made in Spain! This is as big as a
windmill. God of my soul!"--she threw a handful of yellow sewing-silk
upon a piece of white satin; "Ana shall embroider this gown,--the
golden poppies of California on a bank of mountain snow." She suddenly
seized a case of topaz and a piece of scarlet silk and ran over to
me: I being a Montereña, etiquette forbade me to purchase in Santa
Barbara. "Thou must have these, my Eustaquia. They will become thee
well. And wouldst thou like any of my white things? Mary! but I am
selfish. Take what thou wilt, my friend."