Guadalupe, the patron saint of California; and several fragile
fans. Quite apart, on a little table, was the crown and pride of the
_donas_,--six white cobweb-like smocks, embroidered, hemistitched, and
deshaladoed. Did any Californian bridegroom forget that dainty item he
would be repudiated on his wedding-eve.

"God of my life!" murmured Valencia, "he has taste as well as gold.
And all to go on that round white doll!"

There was little envy among the other girls. Their eyes sparkled with
good-nature as they kissed Prudencia and congratulated her. The older
women patted the things approvingly; and, between religion, a _donas_
to satisfy an angel, and prospective bliss, Prudencia was the happiest
little bride-elect in all The Californias.

"Never were such smocks!" cried one of the girls. "Ay! he will make a
good husband. That sign never fails."

"Thou must wear long, long trains now, my Prudencia, and be as stately
as Chonita."

"Ay!" exclaimed Prudencia. Did not every gown already made have a
train longer than herself?

"Thou needst never wear a mended stocking with all these to last thee
for years," said another: never had silk stockings been brought to
the Californias in sufficient plenty for the dancing feet of its
daughters.

"I shall always mend my stockings," said Prudencia, "I myself."